• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern Balance of This World - Characters

Main
Here
Lore
Here
Other
Here

Dawnsx

Majestic Dinosaur



Balance of This World

applications













application info.




General

Name
Witches' surname is their clan name.

Gender

Age

Witches should be at least 16, and priests should be at least 21.

Height

Role

Witch/Supervising Priest

Clan
If character is a witch

Partner
Does not have to be decided until the start of the roleplay.

Appearance
Anime or drawn fc's only please. Description optional.

In-Depth

Personality

Backstory

Relationships

Optional.

Abilities

Combat Skills

Witchcraft

If character is a witch. Witches can have a broad range of magic, so you can decide at your own discretion. Does not have to be an exhaustive list; you may add more during the roleplay as appropriate. Offensive magic is allowed but should be kept to a minimum. Feel free to consult me for ideas.

Familiar
If character is a witch, and completely optional as not all witches have familiars.

Name

Appearance

Not limited to humanoid appearances.

Room
Provide a brief descriptor of familiar's room.

Meal
What does your witch provide to the familiar as sustenance?

Miscellaneous
Optional. Fun facts, voice claim, theme song, etc. can go here.

















roles.











Witch



open





Witch 1

Witch 2

Witch 3

Witch 4










Supervising Priest



open





Artem Yurievich Arkhangelsky

Priest 2

Priest 3

Priest 4















notes.





As noted in the interest check, players will be expected to form a partnership with the opposite role. You do not need to have partnerships decided by the time you post your CS, but they should be planned before the start of the roleplay.








One character per player for the time being.








Please ping me on Discord when your CS is 100% completed so that I don't mistakenly review any WIPs!








If you have ideas/questions that weren't addressed in the overview or lore, feel free to ask!
















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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General

Name
Icara Arachne

Gender
Female

Age
23.

Height
5'10''

Role
Witch

Clan
Arachne

Partner
TBD

Appearance
Headless witch.jpg

In-Depth

Personality
Those who don’t know Icara well would say that rather than a person with normal likes, interests and personality, she was more akin to a prey animal. Frightened of most things, they might describe her as a trembling bag of nerves and terror. Riding in cars, swimming, walking along the street, meeting strangers, meeting friends she hasn’t seen in a while. All these things terrify her. And she’s constantly worried that that cough, that bump on her body that was maybe there before (she can’t remember) means that she’s an inch away from passing on to the afterlife. Those that know her well still see all of that, in fact they’d probably see that *more* as she comes crying to them about being on the verge of death. But past the overriding fear of death and disease, Icara is a friendly woman who enjoys other people's company. Generous to a fault, and in love with books, studying and new information, when she feels comfortable she is intelligent and warm to everyone. The problem is finding a place where she can be herself, as there are scant few places where she feels truly safe. Her new powers of spatial separation have helped her feel marginally safer, but it’s hard to rid herself totally of the fear she’s had her whole life.

Backstory
Icara is the niece of the Arachne clan head witch. Her witch mother and mortal father died young, her mother perishing of a wasting disease none of the healers or doctors seemed able to cure. Her father, while taking Icara to visit her mortal family, was murdered by a cousin who despised witches and couldn’t stand that he had married one and sired a daughter with her. Icara was almost killed there, too, and bears a scar on her stomach from the traumatic experience.

Since her parents were slain, Icara was raised technically by the head witch of the Arachne clan, but in reality raised as a sort of communal effort by everyone who lived in the ancestral home of the Arachne clan. In particular the head witch's son, Balfour, who acted as a surrogate father/older brother figure. But when he reached the age of thirty, he was given the Arachne clans greatest gift, though many would call it a curse. the Arachne Familiar Ariadne. A huge, lazy, malevolent spider, Arachne fed off of confidence. Those who possessed her as their familiar gained a powerful ally, but they would never be sure of their decisions, or even sure that they’d live out the day. No matter how safe they were, with their confidence devoured, they would never stop having the vague feeling that something terrible was going to happen. And eventually, something terrible did happen to Balfour.

Icara was never told what had occured, but after being sent to deal with a rogue witch, his priest returned to Wesland with Ariadne in a binding box and Balfour nowhere to be found. No matter how much she inquired, no one would tell her what had happened. After this, with the heir apparent dead, missing or rogue, Ariadne needed a host. Icara was a promising witch, but there were other, better candidates. But for some reason Icara was chosen. Perhaps because of her relationship with Balfour? At the tender age of thirteen she gained the most powerful Familiar of the Arachne household save perhaps for the familiar that belonged to the head of the house. But for Icara, already a traumatized, nervous creature who had lost every parental figure she’d ever had, it was no blessing. Having her confidence devoured sent her into a spiral of nervous self destructive terror. She hated Ariadne as she had a nagging suspicion the familiar may have had something to do with Balfour’s death, and never allowed the creature out if she could help it. What was more, she was an almost permanent resident of the infirmary, positive that she was deathly ill and terrified to go outside where all sorts of horrible things could happen. From a mundane car crash, to rabid witch killers after her blood. When she wasn’t in the infirmary, she was in the library, looking for ways to avoid the fate that met so many of her loved ones.

Eventually, however, she found an… inelegant solution. She chopped off her own head. Or, at least, she did so with her family's much lauded spacial magic. It was a brilliant, if bizarre use of the magic, and before she had even reached the age of 16. She could leave her body at home and use puppets to carry her head around. A concerned family member gave her money to contract an Ouroboros witch to craft a cage she could place her head in, rendering it almost untouchable. It wasn’t a perfect solution by any means, but it allowed Icara to begin functioning… almost normally. Still uncertain and afraid, she nevertheless can go out without being paralyzed by a fear of the world. Though she certainly draws odd looks as one of her walking dolls carries her head around in a cage. Still unable to stand the sight of Ariadne, she leaves the giant spider home, guarding her body.


Relationships
Jessica Broadburn: A mortal doctor hired on by the Arachne family to be a sort of family nurse. As Icara essentially lived in her infirmary when she was a young teenager, the doctor has a motherly attitude towards her, and Icara trusts her medical expertise implicitly. Jessica worries for Icara’s sanity, and makes Icara work her body out so it doesn’t atrophy while her head is away.

Ariadne: Icara’s familiar, though both are wary of one another. Ariadne is slow, cruel and lazy, but very powerful. Does not regard Icara as ‘mother’ like many familiars do, but appreciates that her job is simply guarding her body so she can spin her webs in peace. Icara dislikes Ariadne as she finds her lazy and cruel attitude offensive, and worries that the familiar had something to do with her older cousin Balfour’s death.

Rufus Orobouros: The Orobouros mage that made Icara’s head cage and taught her the rudimentary bits of manipulating inanimate objects. Thinks Icara is crazy, but likes her anyway, and treats her like that one weird friend that you’re embarrassed to introduce to your other friends.

Abilities

Combat Skills
Icara’s combat skills are limited, but she has a number of dolls and mannequins at her disposal. Equipping them with weapons can prove effective, as Icara is adept at fine manipulation. In a desperate pinch, Icara can ‘Sever’. That is, use spacial magic to slice through something or someone. She can only do so if the target is quite close to her, not one of her dolls, however. She can also whack people with her head cage as it will not harm the head inside, and it’s a very solidly made cage.

Witchcraft
Icara is adept at Spatial magic and the manipulation of inanimate objects, though this manipulation is limited to things that look humanoid and is her weaker skill. As for spacial manipulation, her main focus is creating ‘holes’. She can reach far away things by ripping a spacial hole in two places (like a portal gun) though it’s very taxing on her to make a hole big enough to get her whole body through. She can also detach other parts of her body quite easily, and can spy by detaching an eye or an ear and leaving them somewhere inconspicuous. Her head is almost always detached from her body, her body left somewhere safe, while her dolls carry her head around in the cage specially designed to protect it.

Not quite her own power, she also has her 'head cage'. A magical cage that let's her head float in the middle of it, never moving around or hitting the bars no matter how much the cage is jostled or thrown around. It's nigh indestructible, and can only be opened with a thought from Icara, which could be a problem if she's ever unconscious. Things like bullets, arrows and fire cannot pass through the bars of the cage, though their other effects may. The cage may be able to do something like float on lava, the lava itself doing no harm to Icara, but the heat is still there and would roast her head quickly. It can't move on its own, however, and requires one of Icara's dolls, one of her allies (or in disastrous cases an enemy), or Icara's actual body, to carry it.

Familiar


Name
Ariadne

Appearance
Ariadne is a huge, fat, black widow spider with a bright blue glowing hourglass on her back, rather than a red one. The hourglass even has sand in it, and Ariadne claims that the amount in it can indicate how much longer the person she is looking at will be alive. This may be a joke, as there is little sand in the hourglass at any given time, and other than Icara, Ariadne kills most others that she pulls into her room.

Room
Ariadne’s room is a black, empty space with spiderwebs running in every direction horizontally and vertically. Sand pours down from above choking and making visibility limited to all except Ariadne and her host.

Meal
Confidence

Miscellaneous
Theme Song
 
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01
02
03
04
05
  • Height
    5’11”
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Indigo
    Face Claim
    Faust Lavinia (魔法使いの約束)
    Voice Claim
    Ishida Akira
    Old Fear (Calm Version)
    Appearance
    Given his mannerisms when off the clock, Artem’s profession is hardly recognizable when not clothed in the tell-tale white garb of supervising priests. His posture is strict and practiced, yet indolence pervades his entire being. The dark indigo coloring his eyes are as listless as they come, albeit obscured by the tint of his photochromic lenses. In a similar fashion, his civilian wardrobe evidently favors articles of clothing that are easy to put on, and he notably abhors the uniforms of supervising priests due to the numerous buttons, belts, and buckles. Despite the complaints, his uniform is always neatly maintained and assembled without a single fiber out of place.
    Personality
    A shriveled and gloomy man despite being in his prime. The priest known as Artem Yurievich Arkhangelsky is a formidable opponent for extraverts given that he is equipped with a prodigious talent for turning the atmosphere in a room dreary with a few words. Merely the heavy drag of his sigh is infectious enough to sour moods like a depressive epidemic. As it is his typical greeting for whoever comes knocking at the door of his humble abode, a person’s first visit is typically their last. In retrospect, those that do intrude more than once or twice are regulars. If left to his own devices, he’ll ferment in his room to the point where he refuses to take calls from anyone not authorized to relay emergency summons. Only banging on his front door repeatedly allows people to know that no, he didn’t die in his room during his extended vacation. Meddlers, he calls them.

    Those privy to his inertness chalk it up to him being the sin of sloth incarnate. However, he is but a soul once crushed under the weight of responsibility. Whatever complex emotions plagued him in the past are long lost to the throes of time, leaving behind a hollow shell of a man who’s given up on vainly attempting to put together the broken pieces of his ego. He is tired of both his past and present lifestyle, showing in how his interest towards virtually everything has dwindled down to a pale flame. This apathy thickly veils most emotions behind a weary facade, with people typically finding it difficult to understand the man in spite of the candid nature of his words when in an informal setting. Even his sole “hobby” is difficult to get a read on whether or not he truly enjoys it. Though skillful and capable of delivering technical and expressive performances, the tone of the black and white keys under his fingers always carry a warm yet subtly haunting undertone. According to Artem himself, he resents it yet cannot live without it.

    Despite his borderline crippling introversion and hermit-like tendencies, he is surprisingly articulate and sensible in public. Mature, empathetic, and having a way with words, it is as if an alter ego comes forth to soothe the hearts of the weary. “If only my son could be as put together as you,” many mothers would say, to which the priest only responds with a polite smile. So long as he bears the symbol of the Holy See, he dutifully completes the tasks set before him like an exemplary member of the Obsidian Tower’s supervising priests.

    Between the man in plain clothes and the one who dresses himself in the garb of the Obsidian Tower, who is the real Artem?
Code by Nano
 
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General

Name
Viktor Anura

Gender
Male

Age
26

Height
6'4"

Role
Witch

Clan
Anura

Partner
Artem Yurievich Arkhangelsky

Appearance
44be0c077b6397672ef266386fdf7b57.jpg


In-Depth

Personality
Viktor Anura is an excruciatingly drab man. His dullness knows no bounds and is matched only by his lethargy. A truly unfortunate combination of apathy and slothfulness has given birth to what may very well be the single most insufferable witch the Anura clan has ever produced. When presented with a difficult choice, Viktor gives up. When assigned a distant goal, he returns to bed. If not for the basic needs his body demands, Viktor would much rather hibernate for the rest of his natural life. Rumor has it - if you consider the mutterings of the paltry few who've had the displeasure of knowing Viktor enough to be 'rumors' - that the man's presence drains the colors from his surroundings. As such, there are very few - witch or human - willing to suffer his presence. The only things tying him to the world he exists in are the treaty and the obligations it demands of him. Sufferingly but ultimately efficiently, Viktor fulfills his duties and remains (mostly) functional, driven along the path of least resistance to avoid potential trouble. Better to exert a modicum of effort now to avoid more exhausting complications in the future, the gaunt witch claims.

Backstory
Viktor was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The first child of a prominent Anura lineage, he grew up being prepared for a successful inheritance. He was instructed in every manner of learning, from art to mathematics to the clan's characteristic witchcraft and beyond. Where others may have crumbled under the weight of the expectations placed upon his back, Viktor flourished. He was a bright child, clever and inquisitive, and took to his training with zeal, aided especially by his prodigious talent for witchcraft. Viktor's early days were inordinately busy for a child his age, but balanced well by the lavish doting of his relatives. For the first ten years of his life, Viktor knew not the meaning of failure. He was a shining star, obviously set on a path of great success. Nothing could get in his way.

That changed rather suddenly. Shortly before his eleventh birthday, Viktor's great-grandmother passed away. In her prime, she was a witch of impressive skill and retained a significant influence in the family's affairs even towards the end of her life. With her death, Viktor's family lost an important pillar. Even so, she had been growing frailer and iller for years and her passing came as no surprise. The more pressing issue was the inheritance of her familiar. The creature known as Kunigunde had been passed down through Viktor's lineage to most promising individuals as a sort of unofficial induction. While there were plenty of adults in his parents' generation capable of taking on the role, Viktor's early successes and growth presented him as a prominent candidate. Few denied his potential and despite his young age, it was predicted that he would become one of the foremost members of the next generation of Anura.

And so, Viktor, brazen and emboldened by years of praise and anticipation, took on a burden far beyond his capabilities. Kunigunde was a powerful familiar, and it wasn't that the most skilled were deserving of her, but rather that only the most skilled were capable of handling her. Viktor, for all his talent, was merely a young child. Compared to even the most untalented of grown Anura, he was much less capable. Having long since forgotten this through the generations, the lineage bound the two together with disastrous consequences.

Every witch with a familiar must sustain its existence by providing it with intangible pieces of themselves. Viktor was no exception, of course, but a powerful familiar demands much of its witch. Kunigunde demanded too much of him. She subsisted off her witch's feelings of desire, whether they be emotional, mental, or physical. For an older, full-fledged witch with strong self-discipline and the ability to reign her in, the draining of desire and the depressive effects Kunigunde caused could be combated. Viktor had neither of those things.

Instead, he was stripped of much of his ability to be motivated. Viktor wanted nothing, wished for nothing. The once-bright boy failed to find pleasure any more in the things he'd enjoyed. His desire to grow stronger, to match up to his parents' expectations, to be the best witch the Anura clan had ever produced vanished into his familiar's boundless stomach. His studies lapsed, he wasted large periods of time on nothing at all, he struggled to complete even the simplest of tasks. His family was at wit's end. In their attempts to rekindle his vibrancy, his parents attempted to push the young Viktor back into his previous activities.

While he never exhibited the same zeal or enjoyment he had previously, their actions forced Viktor out of stagnation and returned his life to a pale imitation of normalcy. Even so, it was undeniably clear that things had changed. All Viktor's blossoming talents withered away in the span of a few months. Though he still housed Kunigunde within his stomach and possessed an affinity for the clan's witchcraft, Viktor no longer held the promise or potential he once had. Dissuaded by her effects on him, the Anura chose to move on from the two, finding new sources of talent within the younger witches that were capable of fulfilling their expectations. By the age of fifteen, Viktor faded back into the crowd, splitting his time between the bare minimum of his required studies and remaining holed up in his room doing nothing at all. And so the years passed, with Viktor growing up to be a rather dull, muted witch, with no one - not his parents, not his siblings, and especially not Viktor - caring much about what he did.

Relationships
Artem Arkhangelsky

Artem Arkhangelsky is the ideal supervisor. He operates on efficiency and has never once strayed beyond the boundaries of his occupation. For Viktor, the lack of interference in his personal life - barren as it is - allows him to maintain his solitude without stress. In turn, the witch knows little of his supervisor's life and has no desire to ever change that. Theirs is a purely professional relationship that begins and ends in the workplace. Despite their distance, Viktor will attest to the effectiveness of Artem's methods over the past years and has a sincere respect for his ability to minimize the work the two must put in.

Kunigunde
Kunigunde is undeniably a monster. She can be - and has been - blamed for every failure in Viktor's life. Her presence cripples the witch, rendering him barely functional even on the best of days. Even so, the two have spent the past fifteen years bound together - longer than Viktor lived without her. By now, he barely remembers life prior to Kunigunde. She is an integral piece of his identity and Viktor would never give her up for anything. Their bond, imbalanced and unhealthy as it is, is unbreakable.

Emmeline Anura
Emmeline is an old acquaintance from Viktor's childhood, the sole still in contact with him. Older than him by a fair margin, she was initially hired as one of her young cousin's many instructors. They struck up a close, familial bond and Emmeline became one of the premier supporters of Viktor's burgeoning talents. Even after his tides turned, the older woman still watches over him - though, of course, much less closely than during his childhood. The younger witch appreciates the effort Emmeline puts in, even if he doesn't quite understand why she still cares. Does she feel guilty for having pushed for him to receive Kunigunde's burden all those years ago? Viktor would rather leave that particular question unanswered.

Abilities

Combat Skills
None. Zilch. Nada. Viktor has no coordination to speak of. His frailty renders him hopeless in physical bouts and he relies almost entirely on the strength of his familiar to win fights. Without her, even a stiff breeze could fell Viktor with ease. Unless challenged to a battle of who can drop the most books on their feet, he is bound to lose.

Witchcraft
Viktor's greatest strength lies in his mastery of the Anura clan's necromantic rituals. Though he wields it infrequently these days, the magic to summon forth and commune with the dead remains one of his most practiced and developed skills. He is particularly adept at minimizing the risk to his soul when venturing to the outskirts of Hell.

A supplementary spell Viktor has adopted rather recently allows him to rapidly aerosolize toxic substances to form dangerous clouds. The toxins are collected from several frogs and toads he keeps in his home. While none are deadly, their effects range from inducing hives to causing temporary muscular paralysis. This magic tends not to win any fights, but is more than enough to buy Viktor time when he needs it.

Familiar

Name

Kunigunde

Appearance
michael-macrae-crone-by-themichaelmacrae-dczny6w.jpg


Room
Kunigunde's room is a wide, snowy clearing in a dense forest of cypress trees. The forest is endless, as trying to venture through it eventually brings you back to the clearing, and is perpetually dark, lit only by dim moonlight.

Meal
Kunigunde feeds off any of Viktor's desires, indiscriminately devouring the vast majority of his wants and wishes to sate her immense appetite.

Miscellaneous

  • Despite the rather predatory nature of Viktor and Kunigunde's relationship and its negative effects on him, Kunigunde remains one of the few remaining beings Viktor treasures and is a constant companion to the witch.
  • Viktor is the eldest of four children - two sisters and a brother - who all are significantly younger than he.
  • Viktor has no one he'd exactly call a "friend," but he does have an older cousin from the Anura clan who semi-regularly checks in on him to make sure he hasn't died yet.
 
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Gppv64l.jpg
Art by: 風李たゆ
  • Name
    Ira Siamese

    Gender
    Male

    Age
    16

    Height
    5'3"/163 cm

    Role
    Witch

    Clan
    Siamese

    Partner
    Ptolemy Badawi

    Appearance
    In part thanks to the supposed beautification potions gifted to him since childhood, Ira has delicate features and silky smooth hair. Paired with his small build, he doesn’t quite strike as an intimidating figure. Despite his relatives’ urgings, he actually takes little care in his appearance. He prefers to dress in comfortable T-shirts and jeans rather than the stuffy suits tailored for him. And while he used to have maids who would style his hair for him, nowadays he lets his hair fall and flow around his face.
 
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General

Name
Dalia Sparks

Gender
Female

Age:
22

Height
5'8

Role:
Supervising Priest

Partner:
Cecil Ovis


Appearance:
download20220203173005.png
In-Depth

Personality
During one's first meeting with Dalia, she shows herself to be the perfect picture of a priest: calm, collected, and mild in temperament, ready to lay down her life for the Church and her charge. Many people end up initially charmed by the priest's honeyed words and soothing voice. However, the more time one spends with Dalia and the more she trusts you, the image of the perfect, saintly priest cracks, as Dalia shows her true personality: judgmental, arrogant, and flighty. Originally given the nickname "Peacock" by her older sister, Dalia in her private sphere is glamorous, spending whatever she can scrape up on clothes and jewelry, books and sweets, as well as all manner of decorations. Luxury is something Dalia only acquired after joining the priests, and she is determined to stay in it. Bossy and bitchy in equal measure, Dalia can be quite frustrating to be around, as she has no problem in stepping on others to get what she wants. She also has a meddlesome side to her as well, attempting to get down to the bottom of gossip using any measure necessary. As a result, Dalia seems to know all the good rumors before most, and would be willing to tell you...for a price. Of course, Dalia, like all people, has a good, far kinder side of herself. Steadfast and confident, Dalia is hard to sway, sticking to her guns and rarely giving up on a venture. She, when willing, can be a genuinely comforting and helpful presence to those who need it. Dalia is incredibly curious, flipping through texts in order to satiate her ever present wonder of the world around her.

Backstory
Dalia
was the youngest of 4 siblings, born to two struggling shopkeepers living in a rundown apartment. Dalia was the product of an affair between her mother and a former family friend, who, a week after she was conceived, flew off to pursue business opportunities across the sea, gradually losing contact with the Sparks. He was never made aware of Dalia's origins, as Dalia's mother, Yasmine, wanted to remain married to her husband for her children's sakes. Dalia's father- or rather, step-father- Uddin, suspected Dalia was not his child, which was later confirmed once he took a paternity test with Dalia when she was 2. As a result, he treated Dalia with barely concealed contempt, viewing her as simply another mouth to feed and the manifestation of his failing marriage.

Dalia's mother wasn't much better than her husband, treating her children with ambivalence and, on bad days, with outright disgust. The only one who she seemed to have any measure of goodwill for was Dalia, coddling the girl and using whatever money they could scrape up to indulge her whimsies. Of course, not even Dalia could fully escape her mother ire, as her mother would go on rants about how Dalia and her other children "ruined her" whenever the young girl would make a mistake, berating her until she was in tears. Regardless, out of all of Dalia's family members, it was her mother she was closest too, as her half-siblings either ignored her or bullied her.

Yasmine and Uddin, despite the urgings of everyone who knew even a smidge of how disastrous their marriage was to get a divorce, stayed together, in part because of the notion that splitting up would cause their children harm and partly due to the fact that divorcing would be far too much of a hassle, especially since they shared a business. However, this decision proved to only be horrible for all parties involved, as the couple had begun resorting to using their children in their fights. As their business began to suffer more loses and bills rose, fighting in the household became more and more bitter, resembling a full out warzone. As a result, Dalia began to avoid her home, spending more and more time at the local library or pulling off small cons with her delinquent friends. It was during one of these cons that Dalia realized she had the gift of gab, able to charm easily and manipulate others.

Shit really hit the fan, however, when her eldest brother, John, was involved in a car accident that left him in a coma. By this time, the family business had closed and the two parents ping ponged from job to job, working as Waiters to Bus Drivers to Janitors. They were rarely if ever at home now, leaving the children largely to their own devices. As the medical bills stacked up, Dalia's parents struggled, and eventually the family was a hairs breadth away from living on the streets. Dalia, despite having dreams of travelling abroad and pursuing an education, decided that, upon turning 18, she'd join the supervising priests of the Church in order to help her family out of poverty. And that's just what she did: Dalia trained rigorously from age 18, whipping herself into shape and becoming the very image of a dutiful priest. Any regrets Dalia has over her choice of career she keeps firmly tampered down, as she reminds herself of why she chose to join the priesthood in the first place.

Relationships:
Birthfather: N/A

Step-father, Uddin: The two have a fairly uneasy, yet cordial relationship. Despite the fact that the man wants nothing to do with Dalia, he does maintain correspondence with her, if only to get access to the money she sends every two weeks.

Mother, Yasmine: Warm relationship. The two keep in close contact with each other, meeting every once a week for lunch. However, if Dalia seems distressed or grumpy after each of these meetings, well....

Oldest brother, John: The two, while not exactly close, share a positive relationship, due to John's easygoing nature and their shared love of theater. They call each other intermittently, where John shares news of what their other siblings are doing.

Brother, Mohammed: The two viscerally loathe each other, to the point where they aren't allowed to see each other without another family member to smooth out any conflict that arises. Nevertheless, whether Dalia has some (small) form of care towards her brother or out of familial duty, she still sends him money every once in a while to help him through his studies.

Sister, Faruz: The two share a polite, if cold relationship. While close as children, the two were used so frequently as pawns in their parents arguments they ended up drifting apart, feelings of animosity festering under the surface. Presently, while the two haven't worked through their issues, they now get along enough to have polite conversations over coffee every time Faruz is back in the country from travelling abroad.

Partner, Cecil Ovis: Dalia's not quite sure when Cecil managed to charm her. Maybe it was the ever present gifts Ceil gave to her, or the way she looked up to Dalia. Perhaps her bright kindness, and just how genuine she was about it. Regardless, the two became thick friends, with Dalia viewing Cecil as the younger sister she never had. Cecil is perhaps one of the only people at the tower who Dalia is truly herself with.

Abilities:

HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT: Dalia is a self proclaimed "pro" at hand to hand, fast on her feet and agile like a cat. She tends to rely on a mix of strength and stealth, using tips she picked up from her old group of friends to see her to victory. These usually include dirty, underhanded tricks, such as throwing dirt in her opponents eyes or tricking them into giving her the upper-hand. Dalia doesn't quite mind though- whatever works, right? While it would be a mistake to parrot Dalia's over-inflated beliefs in her fighting abilities, there's no denying that she's effective.

WEAPONRY: Dalia's weapons include (but are not limited to) an array of freshly polished daggers, throwing knives, a sword (no idea how she got that ), and a few revolvers that she keeps under lock and key in her home. While Dalia is talented enough at using metal weaponry to keep her foes at bay, her use of long range weaponry, firearms, could use some work. Dalia is notorious for being a horrific shot amongst her co-workers, many great numbers of tragedies happening simply because a gun was placed in Dalia's possession.

Miscellaneous
  • Theme Song- Thus Always To Tyrants by The Oh Hellos
  • Claustrophobic and Trypophobic
  • 10/10 cook
  • Classic literature, theater, and history nerd
  • "What do we do when we're depressed?" "Add to cart."
  • Dork on the down low
  • While she's clean and immaculately groomed at all times, Dalia's house tends to be an absolute hellscape unless she has company over.
  • During work, Dalia adopts a soft, pleasant voice, speaking slowly and enunciating her words clearly. However, off duty and around those she trusts, her city-slicker accent comes out, words quick and pointed, peppering her once sophisticated and poetic speech with slang.
 
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Ptolemy Badawi
'Lemy'
  • My father always used to say, "Don't raise your voice. Improve your argument."
    Name
    Ptolemy 'Lemy' Badawi
    Height
    6'0
    Gender
    Male
    Age
    29
    Role
    Supervising Priest
    Partner
    Ira Siamese
    Face Claim
    Mr. Salo by sh0d03_art
    Appearance
    He was born with chocolate skin and sharp, teal eyes. Features he got from his father. While his wavy, ebony black hair is a feature of his mother. However, he prefers his hair to be slicked back and straightened. Ptolemy is six feet tall and has quite a muscular yet slim body type. His arms are the most muscular part of his body due to his iconic weapon, his gauntlets. He would also wear silver earrings on both of his ears; sometimes, the shape of the earrings would change as he had various collections.

    He usually keeps all of his attire tidy and clean. He takes his time ironing and preparing his uniform and would often be seen shopping for fashionable clothes in the shopping district.
    Personality
    His sharp eyes and intimidating facial features may make you think he’s cold and hostile. However, he is far beyond that. Underneath that towering figure and sullen expression, he is a loving and kind person. He is also very patient and would often be seen wearing a neutral expression. He bears no animosity toward anyone; some would say he is the spitting image of his father. And when Ptolemy hears this, he would always find himself beyond happy, and a smile would then follow his lips.

    Ptolemy always considers his father when making a critical choice and how it would affect his image. And through the church’s orders, he plans on being a valuable asset to the organisation his father dedicated his life to. Ptolemy is loyal and honest, at least when he needs to be. After what happened with his first witch, he has trouble or doubts about the treatment the church gives the witches. However, Ptolemy is determined to ignore these and continue with one thing in mind, “The Holy See comes first.”
code by Nano
 
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scroll








scroll





"When life gives you lemons...You make a cake with it!"





Cecil Ovis
















Cici the Witch



Cecil Ovis







full name

Cecil Ovis






nicknames

Cici






Gender

Female






Age

25






Height

5'2''






Position

Witch

































Voice claim


伊藤美来Miku Ito




















01.



visage

















Clan

Ovis clan






Partner

TBD






Familiar

Efiatis










faceclaim

赤倉@akakura1341























02.



psyche









APPEARANCE
Cecil is fairly confident that no matter how much she ages, that baby face of hers won’t change. With her big golden eyes, small pointy nose, and a bright smile that rarely leaves her lips, she appears much younger than her actual age. Ceil gives off the vibe of an energetic, excited sixteen years old girl who does not yet know of any hardships in life. Not to mention she is always often found wearing cute dresses of different colors, and discovering adorable ways to put together outfits. Her small and thin frame with just enough bust and curve allows her to try on different clothes and fashion styles, but she mainly aims to look cute and bubbly. Most of the time, however, she’ll be found wearing her citrus yellow dress decorated with laces and bows. No matter what, Cecil seems to be glowing just by standing there, preparing to shine all the time.

PERSONALITY
Cecil believes that the whole witch community plus the priests are being overly shrouded with emo-ness and that everyone needs to open their windows and get some sunlight. The witch herself is a bubbly, energetic, and cheerful girl who goes around loudly greeting everyone with a “good morning,” “good evening,” and “goodnight.” She does her best to get to know and maintain a friendly relationship with everyone. Due to this, it is easy for her to notice when she hasn’t seen someone she knows for days. If that’s the case, she will not hesitate to barge into that someone’s door uninvited to make sure a greeting and a level of social activity has been exchanged.

With how childish and mischievous she behaves plus her young appearance, it is almost impossible to think that she is already 25 years old. She has no shame in relying on witches much younger than her when needed, and definitely doesn’t care about needing to act like a senpai. Most of all, Cecil has no fear for things. Although she is relatively smart and witty to an extent, this lack of fear causes her to be rather bold and ruthless without thinking her consequences through at times. Nonetheless, Cecil tries very hard to remind herself to stay rational in every situation, because she knows that even if she has no fear of death, she prefers to stay alive.

Sweet and clumsy, Cecil nonetheless can be a good sister. She is a listener for other people’s troubles, and is always up to offer encouragement and a giant, friendly hug. Although she appears quite absent-minded at times, Cecil does follow instructions quite well - at least half of it. Somehow, things just always happen that make her have to finish each mission the hard way, at least if she’s by herself. As optimistic as she is, however, she views each time she messes up as a learning experience. She’ll brightly convince herself that it won’t happen again.

All happy, social energy has its limits. In all honesty, Cecil acts and persuades herself to be the persona she is in order to properly function through everyday life. She wonders, sometimes, staring at the mirror, if she is really who she is, or is that just a mask she wears? And if it is a mask, is there anything that still remains underneath it? Reminding herself however that she still has a family who loves her and people who appreciate her existence, she uses them as a driving force to keep living optimistically. Cecil believes that she is the only one who tries her best to look after her mental health. She won’t hesitate to cry like a baby just for stress relief, and force someone else to be her listener to vent to (even if that person doesn’t want to be there). Perhaps it’s because she’s learning not to bottle everything up by herself. Or maybe it’s just because that bottle inside of hers is already full, so she has no choice but to keep the rest out.

MISCELLANEOUS
Cecil has recently gotten into making desserts, and fortunately she’s not too bad at it. However, since she has developed this hobby, everyone she knows has become her lab rat to try every single flavor and every new creation she invents. One who is smart enough will know to run when she starts running toward one with a plate of dessert in hand. Since once you get caught, it’s not just that plate you have to swallow down. More often than not she has ten other flavors of new inventions she wants you to try, and half of them are often too unique to be tried again.






likes

Desserts, anything kawaii, citrus, lemon






dislikes

Tragedy movies, bitter melon






fears

None


















03.



history









Trigger Warning: extreme gore
As a young witch, Cecil is not particularly powerful or talented within the Ovis family. She is clumsy by all means, and her inability to sit still in her chair for more than 30 minutes makes it hard for her to learn from textbooks. Her older sister, Titiana Ovis, who excels on every subject and receives all the praises of each Ovis member, obviously scorned her little sister and looked down on her. Her parents, loving as they were, gave up on her too. The only one who saw potential in her is Cecil’s cousin, Hina Ovis, who is only two years older than her. Elegant, intelligent, and beautiful, she was also the witch that possessed Efiatis, the familiar in the form of a giant, grizzly bear renowned in the Ovis clan for its power and strength. Seeing potential in Cecil and knowing that active, physical learning is the best way to train her, Hina willingly took on the role as Cecil’s tutor. By transforming spells into science experiments and trying out all those “hypotheses” in the textbook, Hina actually managed to convince Cecil that learning is fun. Naturally, she became the closest friend Cecil ever had, too.

Time has its natural way of pulling people apart. As Cecil grew, she became more knowledgeable and experienced as a witch. Yet, she also began to see Hina less and less. At first, Cecil figured it’s just because the elder witch is busy, especially since she is part of the obsidian tower. Although saddened, Cecil was mature enough not to keep inquiring Hina about her businesses and was respectful at the boundary that the other had overtime set up between them. Soon, however, upon an accidental discovery when getting lost in a park one day, Cecil found her cousin and a fairly handsome man tangled together behind the bushes. In an awkward and almost funny way, Cecil learned that Hina had gone hoes before bros. But she did not blame her, for this is the inevitable power of love. The gentleman, known as Urulis Bentford, is indeed charming in his own way. He is kind and humorous, simple-minded and pure. Cecil could see why Hina was drawn to him. Now that Cecil had somehow forced her way into the couple’s world, Hina had no choice but to introduce her secret lover to her, and the trio ended up growing close together. Although she was mostly the third wheel, Cecil found that she had the best time being with these two older figures, who treated her like their youngest sister.

Nonetheless, Hina kept her relationship a secret just like how Urulis wisely kept it from his family. It would soon be learned that Urulis’s family was in fact deeply religious to the level of being extremists, who completely reject the currently open-minded society that has grown more acceptable through the Treaty of Wesland. In fact, they followed the bloodlines of the past generation’s witch hunters, who mercilessly murdered witches and human-alike, and engaged in the bloodiest rituals to offer the witches up for gods. The relationship that Hina and Urulis shared thus turned into something more than just a secret relationship, but a dangerous one as well. Yet, Hina and Urulis found it increasingly unbearable to purely maintain such type of hidden relationship. They began wanting to get married, to become a family, and to bear a child. They wanted to be able to kiss under the sunlight, without a concern for the world.

“We want to elope together.”

At first, Cecil just thought that she just tangled herself into some kdrama storylines. However, she soon realized how serious the issue had become when she found Hina silently packing her things in the room. She stared at this supposedly mature, intelligent, and wise cousin of hers, before stuttering out. “But what if you get caught–”

Then it’s not just about the obsidian tower anymore. Who knows what the Bentford family would do to her?

But Hina was confident in her power and her familiar. With a gentle pat on the head, Hina silently made her way out of her family. Without her in the household, Cecil immediately felt waves of emptiness. Her loyalty to her cousin prevented her from reporting this to the Obsidian tower, and she kept her lips tightly shut as her family discussed her whereabouts, angry about her decision to have gone rogue. And just like that, days passed, without news of neither Urulis nor Hina…

……………
……..


“Humans are scared of witches. Yet, the extent of their evil sometimes goes beyond what any witches are capable of.”

Those words came into Cecil’s mind, followed by the gentle, tragic smile of her mother, who shared Ovis’s clan’s family history with her - how most of them were wiped out by humans during the rampant witch hunt.

With her hand clasped over her own mouth, the sound of her chattering teeth was as loud as her thundering heartbeat. Cecil squeezed herself into the darkest corner of the closet, her entire body trembled with fear over the possibility of getting caught. A single gap of the closet door allowed her to peek into the outside world. She stared into the empty eye sockets of Urulis’s head just outside the closet, severed from the rest of his body that was twisted into an unnatural angle some number of feet away. Blood poured out from his toothless mouth, creating a puddle of blood. His eyeballs were nowhere to be seen. Apparently, according to what Cecil overheard from the Bentford’s family members, it was removed as punishment for lusting over a witch. The head was also severed as punishment, for the head contains the mind and the body the soul. By separating them, Urulis would never be able to reincarnate, but to suffer in Hell for eternity.

Cecil was not supposed to be here. Of course she wasn’t. However, when the dream she had the night before was of Hina desperately warning her that “they know about you, they’re coming for you too,” she knew something was wrong. From the dream, she saw the small mansion of the Bentford household, and the sight of Urulis being forcibly dragged through the door, his head dripping with blood. The dream changed perspective, and she saw Hina sneaking into the house quietly, successfully avoiding the attention of the Bentford family members who were discussing about Urulis by the dining table, and found her way down to the basement. She caught the words that the Bentford family was saying, how they managed to torture Urulis enough to spill out the witches he’d been communicating with, which inevitably included Cecil. She saw Hina approaching an unconscious Urulis, who was too bloodied to get a clear view of his face. She saw Hina trying to wake Urulis up, her eyes filled with tears, her entire body so shaken and so absorbed by what’s in front of her that she did not notice the approaching man behind her with a syringe in his hand…

Cecil woke up in a cold sweat, but not from the nightmare, but from a knock on the door in the middle of the night.

“Police here,” the man in uniform said, holding up his ID for Cecil’s sleepy mother to see. “We’re investigating the urgent case of murder involving Urulis Bentford, and would like to speak privately with your daughter Cecil Ovis, who we discovered was in a close relationship with him a couple weeks before his death…”

“Cecil? Come here. What have you done, Cecil!”

“No, I don’t want to get in the car, mother…I don’t really trust them…”


……..

She is not good at anything.

She knows a couple simple tricks, that’s all. She knows how to sneak into people’s dreams, she barely grasped dreamcrafting. SHe knows how to send things flying, but only small things like paper plates. At 16 years old, she’s not that powerful yet. Perhaps she should have tried harder when Hina was trying to teach her.

All she was good at...Rather, fortunate enough, was to have woken up early in that police car that was misted with unknown drugs that drove her to sleep. She barely regained the strength to break free of the Bentford member’s grasp when they dragged her into the mansion. Her escape was, however, to no avail. Cecil hid from room to room, yet as the hide and seek reached its peak, the girl found herself nowhere else to go except, in the desperate moment, down the very same basement that she had the nightmare of.

Her mind was numb as she stepped across Urulis’s headless body and hurriedly hid herself into the closet, which was surprisingly empty, saved for a broomstick next to her.

“Where did that little bitch go?”

“And I was thinking we can have two offerings in one night…”

“It’s okay, we have plenty of time tonight, where could she run…?”

Then, she witnessed Hina being dragged across the floor of the basement, her mouth wide apart. Her tongue was missing. Cecil knew that the tongue held the power for Hina, for to summon Efiatis requires a clear verbal call.

She saw her cousin being treated like a rag doll, her entire body limp and paralyzed, eyes hollow, lacking any light and focus. If not for the Bentford members muttering how it took three syringes to stop her from moving completely and how the ritual requires a live sacrifice, Cecil would’ve thought that Hina was already. The witch was stripped naked, from top to bottom. They tied a wooden plank against Hina’s back, her arms bent backward around it. The knees were wounded and blooded from scraping against the rough floor. Her feet were tied together.

The basement was filled with the thick metallic smell of blood and rotten stench of flesh. The only thing that stands out from this fairly empty basement is a long ivory table covered with dark red cloth, and a statue of a god before it. It was designed as if to be an altar. Several accessories were placed on the table, but Cecil couldn’t really see clearly from the angle unless she leaned in closer to the gap and risked getting found out. However, she could get the side view of Hina being dragged towards it and forced to kneel in front of the altar. Her posture was maintained by one Bentford member grabbing her by a handful of hair on the head. She didn’t know how the humans actually managed to turn a supposedly powerful witch into someone as lifeless as this. However, she recalled the way the humans had managed to wipe out most of their numbers in the past, and realized that just like how humans managed to force so many wild animals into extinction, they probably have a way. It’s the fear, the fear that they’d crumble under a stronger being, that sometimes becomes the source of a powerful trigger to awaken a strength so merciless and ruthless, it keeps them as the dominating species on Earth.

There was a bucket of unknown substance in front of the ivory table.

As if refusing to, Cecil could not remember the details of that exact night completely. However, she did remember the soft chanting of prayers that echoed against the walls. The five Bentford family members gathered around the forfeited witch, staring at her not in disgust, but almost disturbingly, with love and obsession.

Cecil noticed that Hina was actually still fully conscious, despite having herself trapped inside an immobilized body. She noticed because Hina had looked at her, when the Bentford carelessly allowed her head to turn slightly, just enough for Cecil and Hina to exchange glances. Tears were flowing down her cousin’s eyes. Those eyes, it was hollow, yet Cecil could almost sense the overwhelming emotions hidden behind it.

None of it was fear, because her familiar eats those away. Maybe that’s one good thing among all these, Cecil found herself thinking.

Then Hina’s head was forcibly turned back to stare straight ahead toward the altar.

It began with her hands. The Bentford went behind Hina, and with a clean cut severed off her hands. Carefully, as if holding the most precious items in the world, placed them onto the golden plate on one side of the altar. Then, a knife made its way through into her sockets, crudely digging, until those clear trails of tears were covered in thick metallic blood. They seemed to have a bit of difficulty, perhaps it was that Bentford member's first time doing it. With a grunt, he finally removed her pair of crystal blue eyes, and tenderly placed them onto a small golden bowl on the altar.

Finally, with that same knife, the Bentford member raised it above Hina’s scalp, and carefully carved down on it. It was a horizontal cut, not too deep, just enough for the tip of the knife to reach the witch’s cranium. It was a vertical cut in the middle of her head, starting from the witch’s forehead to the back of her head. Then, a similar horizontal cut was made, slicing apart the skin from the tip of one ear to the other. A member held a golden chalice against her cheek, collecting the blood that flowed down her face.

Then, her scalp was forcibly ripped open, revealing a naked cranium.

The Bentford picked up that bucket of unknown substance. It wasn’t until it was poured onto Hina’s head that Cecil recognized what that was - mercury. The silver, metallic liquid made its way onto the witch’s cranium, and forcibly slipped through the gap of the skin. Its weight acted as a skinning knife, ripping the flesh against the bone, tearing it apart with the force of gravity. Cecil remembered hearing from Hina in the past what mercury was capable of doing. “In ancient times, it was used to skin criminals alive,” she said. “The traditional way of doing it, is to bury the criminal into the mud ground, until only the head is left outside. After slitting open the criminal’s head, the mercury is poured in. The criminal will be squirming in pain, trying to get out from the hole in the mud. However, the weight of the mercury forces the skin to be detached from the bone, so the more the criminal tries to escape, the more he is skinning himself…”

Except, Hina wasn’t squirming nor struggling. She remained motionless in front of the altar, face swelling up from the mercury under the skin. The liquid flowed out of her empty eye sockets, of her nostrils, and her ears, as more mercury was poured. They mixed in with the thick metallic blood that painted her body into a rotting red. Then, the skin on her chest and back began to bulge outward…

….

Cecil didn’t know how much time had passed. Her clothes, drenched in cold sweat, stuck against her skin. Her entire body was still trembling, but fear had numbed all thoughts and sensations. Somehow, something inside her forced to keep her eyes open, to witness the entire incident. Perhaps it’s the only courage she managed to muster out of her, knowing she must not escape reality. With a hunting knife, she watched as the Bentford removed the layer of skin off of the witch, revealing the musculoskeletal system underneath. Praises toward the witch’s fair white skin were muttered as they laid it down carefully onto the table, in front of the rest of the offering.

What feared Cecil more than the gore was not how bloody the thing is, but the realization that Hina had not yet fully died, even after all these. Because if she’s died, then…Then…

Cecil forced herself to move. Slowly letting go of her arms hugging her knees, she urged herself to shift an inch closer to the closet gap.

Then, her back slightly brushed against the broomstick next to her, and it began to fall.

Barely managing to dodge away, a yelp escaped her lips. Her eyes widened at her own mistake as she hurriedly covered her mouth.

It was too late, however. Suddenly, five pairs of bloodshot, malevolent eyes stared in her direction immediately. Cecil fell backward into the closet, goosebumps spreading all over her. One hand reached to grab the broomstick, although she wasn’t sure how much this could do. She was as still as a statue as one Bentford member began walking to the closet, a devilish grin pulled his mouth wide apart, revealing the yellow teeth underneath.

As the closet door was about to be opened, Cecil closed her eyes.

However, what she anticipated did not happen. At that moment, a sudden bright glow lit up the entire basement, followed by a mighty roar that pierced through the air. Screams suddenly filled the space, and Cecil opened her eyes just at the right moment to catch the furious Efiatis pouncing toward the Bentford members, giant claws lifted one up in the air, long fangs digging into his throat, yanking the meat off and savoring the taste.

No syringes and knives managed to penetrate through the thick, hard fur of the beast as the Bentford desperately struggle to fight against the familiar who was freed following his owner’s death. With unfathomable powers, the beast dominated the basement, ripping anyone in sight apart. It only took moments before the five Bentford members were killed, their throats or stomachs torn open. Blood splattered onto the walls, dripping back down to the floor. The bear continued to growl while sniffing the air. It seemed to have calmed down relatively. At least, it looked somewhat satisfied about the massacre it had just performed. However, the scent of one more person who is still alive seemed to bother him. Slowly, as if taking his time, he moved toward the closet.

“Do not. Kill me.” Yet, compared to what the Bentford had done, Cecil found herself surprisingly brave enough to face the bear when the door was yanked open by him. Perhaps it’s because she could find a reason in the Familiar’s action much more than the gruesome acts that humans were capable of. With the broomstick in hand, she pointed it toward the bear.

Efiatis seemed confused for a second, as if not expecting a fragile looking girl to not squirm at the sight of him. The beast backed up one step, the red glow from its eyes disappeared, replaced by a solemn black that judged the very witch in front of her.

“Thank you…Thank you for…For killing them…?” Cecil did not know how she managed to force her voice out when her throat was burning from how dry it was. She saw Efiatis blinked his eyes at her, then slowly turned his head towards what remained of Hina’s body, who had now fallen to her side, collapsed into her pool of blood.

Gently, the young witch crawled out of the closet, step by step. She didn’t know how she mustered out the courage, or how she managed to bravely mutter out those words even after what had just happened. Slowly, she reached out a hand toward the bear, and forced a smile onto her face.

“Hey…Why don’t you be mine?”

……………..

A lot of years had passed since then. When Cecil thought about that incident nine years ago, there was nothing left about it except for an overwhelming sadness that loomed in her mind. She couldn’t feel the fear that shrouded her back then anymore. More like she’s no longer capable of feeling any fear. Efiatis, almost as if becoming some type of defense mechanism for her, swallowed such kinds of sensation up. Cecil wasn’t sure the exact reason Efiatis actually agreed to accept her as the new owner back then. In all honesty, it was a huge gamble. Perhaps it’s her courage for willing to gamble herself like this that convinced the bear? Welps, anyway, she and Efiatis managed to get along in the years that followed, with Cecil eagerly training herself and sharpening her witchcraft in order to convince Efiatis not to regret his choice of choosing her.

Now, Cecil has become part of the Obsidian tower herself, convinced along with the rest of the Ovis clan that following the Treaty of Wesland may be the better thing to do, after all.


















04.



gallery


































05.



relationships

















Blood family



Cecil shares a relatively decent, loving relationship with her parents Merila and Donald Ovis, who willingly trained Cecil after she expressed her interest of wanting to become a stronger witch. Cecil still shares a poor relationship with her older sister Titiana Ovis. The main reason for this was jealousy, Titiana could not understand why Efiatis chose Cecil over her in the end.

















Dalia Sparks



Cecil looks up to Dalia, her supervising priest, as a cool older sister figure. Knowing that the other enjoys sweets, and likes shopping for clothes and jewelries too, Cecil does not hesitate to buy bunch of new clothes and jewelries or get sweets or desserts she made herself for the priest to try. This allows a level of friendship to be fostered between them. Thus, the witch and her priest shares an amiable relationship together. Although with passing time, Cecil began to realize that Dalia isn't entirely the model figure she appears to be - as her judgmental and arrogant side sometimes slips out - Cecil loves her nonetheless. Many times, Cecil can be found running up to Dalia as her first choice when she is in need of advice, excited about gossip, or needs to vent things out in general.

















TBD



TBD

















TBD



TBD





















06.



ABILITY | FAMILIAR

















Ability

Combat Skills:
Cecil isn’t really that much of a fighter. Her witchcraft ability doesn’t really help her in combat, either. What gives her an advantage, however, is her swift and agile movement that makes her a good runner and dodger. Thus, Cecil often considers herself as a person more suitable to be a bait instead.

If Cecil has to fight, then she will utilize her speed to be sneaky and fast, aiming to do quick strikes toward her targets when they least expect. However, Cecil doesn’t really have a weapon, she is the type to use whatever is at her disposal when she needs to put up a fight. It can range from a plastic bin to something actually powerful, like a gun, if she herself doesn’t collapse from the backlash. Her magic ability to control objects and send them flying in the direction she wants gives her an advantage in battle as well, but she can only control relatively small things.

Witchcraft:
When she was 16 years old, she could only send things like paper plates flying. When she grows older, she is able to control more objects such as small chairs around. The bigger the object, the more exhausted she gets. For example, she prefers physically moving a couch instead of using magic to lift it up because it actually gets more tiresome if she does it that way. Nonetheless, when she has to clean the house, Cecil enjoys using magic to fly and deliver things around while singing Cinderella’s Work Song around.

However, the main magic that Cecil has is dreamcrafting. Taking after Ovis clan’s witchcraft ability, Cecil can enter other people’s dreams. She can either view their dreams from a bystander’s perspective, or barge into it and say hi to the sleeping person. Taught by Hina and further trained on her own, Cecil is also capable of crafting dreams and slipping them into the minds of sleeping individuals who did not put up too strong of a mental defense against the outside world. The dreams can be both the bubbliest, most delightful dreams, or pure grueling nightmares. But as sweet as Cecil is, she prefers making happy dreams for other people.






Familiar

Name:
Efiatis

Appearance:
A giant, grizzly brown bear around nine feet high. It looks just like any other bear. When not in anger or bearing its sharp teeth or swinging its long dark claws around, the bear actually appears quite cuddly with round, shiny black eyes and adorable paws. The outermost layer of fur is incredibly soft and comfy to hug against, but the inside layers gets increasingly thicker and harder, and its multi layers of fur serves as a strong protective coat that covers Efiatis against different dangers.

Room:
Efiatis’s room takes the form of a huge circular glade in the middle of a dense forest. Trees growing closely next to each other surround this open area, with barely enough space in between to allow organisms to slip through, save for insects and relatively small animals. The bright moon hanging in the eerie night sky serves as the only source of lumination. Green leaves occasionally make their way to the ground that is coated with dry mud. The soft winds carry the sounds of the owls hooting and ravens’ cawing to the glade, making the atmosphere feels relatively ominous and chilling. Even Cecil herself doesn’t really like Efiatis’s room.

Meal:
Fear


















 
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Agnes Cross
You can’t see through my pain, can you?
Basic Information
Full Name
Agnes Margaret Cross
Nickname(s)
Maggie, Aggie
Epithet
Lucky Priestess
Gender
Female
Age
21
Date of Birth
January 24th
Race
Human - Mix with Greek and Japanese decent
Appearance
Hair Color
Dark Coral
Eye Color
Blue
Height
5’1 (154cm)

A young woman who can‘t be recognized when she doing her job and enjoying her private life, Agnes has a dark blue eyes filled with no emotions despite the fact she could smiling 24/7, her smiles can be both warm and deadly cold. But she keeps it inside of her most of the time, she has a small mannerisms showing that she still hasn’t adapted to adulthood such as using her hands for movements at times, her dark outfit when doing her job doesn’t make her look gloomy at all though, she‘s rather on the small side considering that one side of her family was its short and she got their genetics, on the other hand she has fair skin covered with freckles on her nose, while she has a dark coral hair going down her chest when loose. Her usual attire consists of jackets and sweaters or long sleeved clothing and many beanies which shows how casual is but when doing her job as a supervising priest she makes sure to appear much more tidy and formal. Agnes also does her best to hide two scars which torture her from wearing anything revealing, one scar is above her left eyebrow and the second which is far worse is a deep scar crossing her whole back diagonal.
Personality
On a outward appearance the young lady may be appearing to be smiling, cheerful and energetic but that is just a mask to cover up her true emotions and feelings. Her kind display toward witches and calm and quiet disposition is all fake, in fact she holds immense hatred for the witches enough to want to kill them all herself, but of course she knows deep down that there are good witches but unable to see side and not being able to feel compassion her growing rage and hatred for them always chains her. Thogh deep down she is very found of little children and only then does she replace her mask with real emotions, but it is clear that Agnes can hold on a grudge for many years never letting it go, of course trivial things don’t matter but things that injure or kill her loved ones will lead to their death, she can appear positive but in real life she is a more pessimistic person.
Backstory
TW: Mentions of abuse, depression, suicide, death

Everything I do is for you. Those were the only words which comforted the grief-filled little girl. Even after all those years she remembered the tragedy which befell the humble family of four, growing up Agnes was surrounded by loving people, a family which always believed in peace between witches and humans, a loving brother who she could count on. Their family was neither rich, popular or filled with status but just a simple word of kindness. That’s was the girl learned growing up.

But that was only the beginning when the young girl was a mere age of five her parents left home, surpurvising some witches to aid them, of course she was left with a nanny, although the memory was faint and faded the faint smell of iron was scented whenever she was with her brother, the lightest scents, but of course, she never asked what it was from. The day her parents came back her brother was overjoyed, tears fithting in his eyes despite them leaving for a few weeks, for them it felt forever. But she didn’t want to cry she was big now. Old. But she was still far from it. One day when the family was enjoying their dinner, soemthing happened, the scarlet stains splattering across the room, screams being heard inside the house, the poor girl didn’t want to remember it she didn’t want to hear it, she hid in a closet.

Deeply she prayed she wouldn’t be found. But not all things goes like books and movies, eventually the little girl was found, shaking, crimson smeared on her face, clothing, hair, she tried to flee, looking for the last hopes of life, but then at that moment everything fell apart her vision went dark and everything slowly became lost.

Waking up everything felt different for the young child, the pain she had once felt left her numb with agony, the anger she felt made her want to scream until her voice could no longer be heard and lastly the grief she felt left her hollow and empty only when realizing the truth one survivor was with her she was finally able to smile again. But never would she be the same, never. The slow hatred took over the innocent heart leading her to want revenge. She would never be small again, she would grow up. Protect her people and kill the evil witches.
Relationships
Soren Cross: Soren and Agnes were inseparable, they played, argued despite the age difference of seven years, perhaps because they were both left alone many times during their childhood they began relying on each other for everything. Nothing could change that, when the slaughter of her parents occurred Agnes and Soren had no one else to rely, they lost hope but they loved each other, they swore they would protect each other no matter what. When Agnes reached age she decided to be a supervising Priest just like Soren who had already begun his job, of course he denied her doing anything with firearms and combat but that didn’t stop her, after that Soren had grown increasingly worried for the safety of his little sister.
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Combat
Hand-to-hand-combat

Trained under here ledger brother and some other people during her training Soren made sure she wouldn’t get near too many firearms, making her do excruciatingly difficult training. But training never meant she could get taller or more muscular simply to have experience, but using her smallness as a pro Agnes uses her speed and agileness to make sure and with a calculating thoughts to make sure to know who she could fight with, and those she would not have a chance with. Her sharp mind helps her with simple tasks, thankfully, she was already a master in most of the combats her brother gave her when she needed to fight a real life attacker.


Fire arm

When she was a child she remembered both her parents served as supervising priest of course she never paid much attention to it but grew up remembering it deeply, both her mother and father used specially designated weapons for them with money they scrapped up. Her father used her a crossbow(which was manufactured so that it was silent, accurate and that he could put arrows or bullets if he preferred) on the other hand her mother used more chemicals to kill her enemies, which resulted in her mother wearing many gas masks but because of her brother being in the lead for being a supervising priest she only got the choice of her father’s weapon but she has treated it preciously as she thinks it of a last present from her parents.
Extra
01.
Agnes is a great cook, to the point where she could be a chef if she wanted to pursue the career but decided not to.
02.
She lIves alone but her brother constantly checks up on her to see if she is ok.
03.
Agnes hates people giving her nicknames if she just met them.
code by nano
 

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