Fantasy 𝐖𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐝 (CLOSED)

[TheTaleTellers]

• Harvest (Orphan)
• Candy (House Keeper)

• 
  Ollie
  Oblivious Nourishment​
  
  

  

  
  
  
  
  "I wanna drive a plane... or a rocket."
  Male, TBD
  
  Traits:
  

  Aspiring	Casual	Abrupt
  Contemplative	Emotional	Careless
  Curious	Impressionable	Confused
  Forgiving	Noncommittal	Disorderly
  Leisurely	Outspoken	Guillable
  Sensitive	Questioning	Naive
  Warm	Soft	Repressed

  
  Hobbies:
  

  Dressing Up
  Running
  Kicking Things
  Puzzles
  

  
  
  Talents:
  

  Memory
  Ollie possesses an incredible memory.
  If only he wasn't so easily distracted...
  
  Light-Footed
  Surprisingly, Ollie is abnormally silent on his feet.
  If only he wouldn't open his mouth...
  
  Climbing
  If it's not a completely smooth-vertical surface, Ollie can climb it.
  

  
  
  Backstory:
  

  One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight...
  
  That was strange. Were the books here always organized as such? No, in fact, the entire bookshelf was wrong. It may have been made of the same kind of wood, but the lines weren't the same. Here on the wall too. When was this repainted? The color matched, but the paint had yet to age consistently with the other walls. These inconsequential details were painstakingly apparent for Ollie's memory. They stuck out—these minor inconsistencies of no value.
  
  "What are you going on about, Ollie?"
  "Ollie's being weird again."
  "It's always been like that."
  "You're just confused, Ollie."
  
  That's right. Confused. Ollie wasn't as smart as the other orphans. That's what everybody would say. Even the younger ones were sharper. That made a lot more sense, so it had to be true. He needed to stop thinking about these pointless things. It was strange. It made people uncomfortable. Nobody would want to be around someone like that. Instead, he'd just follow everyone else's lead. They knew better after all.
  
  He didn't need to know how he lost two of his fingers.

  
  —————​
• 
  Arden
  Keeper of Principles​
  
  

  

  
  
  
  
  "The job does not exist for me. I exist for the job. That's all there is to it."
  Ungendered, ???
  
  Traits:
  

  Calm	Absentminded	Apathetic
  Dutiful	Circumspect	Cautious
  Intuitive	Contradictory	Complacent
  Logical	Formal	Dogmatic
  Meticulous	Mellow	Frivolous
  Organized	Skeptical	Insincere
  Systematic	Unambitious	Tactless

  
  Hobbies:
  

  Stargazing
  Cleaning
  Brewing Tea
  Scented Candles
  

  
  
  Abilities:
  

  Immemorable
  All memory of Arden is lost upon leaving their presence—these memories are not returned upon reentering their presence.
  
  Honesty
  Speaking a lie while in Arden's presence causes damage to the individual equal to the weight of the lie spoken—most typically manifested via bleeding through the mouth, eyes, ears, and/or nose.
  
  Golden
  While in Arden's presence, any harm inflicted towards another individual is likewise inflicted on the attacker themselves.
  
  
  *[Presence] - Losing sight of, sound of (their voice), or physical contact with Arden.
  In special cases, smell or taste as well.
  
  Limits
  
  Spoiler

  Arden must abide by the rules of Honest & Golden themselves.
  Honest does not apply to those who believe a lie they speak.
  Honest is incapable of killing. The most it will do is incapacitate.
  
  The effects of Immemorable do not apply to other House Keepers.
  Information about Arden learned from House Keepers will retain, until entering & leaving Arden's presence.
  House Keepers of higher rank are not affected by Honest or Golden.
  Arden's abilities do not function while unconscious.
  Immemorable will kick in once they awake, however.
  
  Minions are subjected to the backlash of Golden, not their owner.
  If Arden is killed in a single blow, Golden will not trigger retroactively.
  Non-direct forms of harm will not trigger Golden.
  
  
  

  ​

  ​

  ​
  
  
  Backstory:
  

  Ambition? Was that something a Candy should have?
  
  Countless Orphans died here, year after year. Whether they were kind, cruel, smart, dumb, weak, or strong. The ones who lived were not anything in particular. No, they were just lucky and Arden wasn't much different. You see, not even the House Keepers were exempt from death. It wasn't uncommon for Blushings to turn up dead every now and then. Sometimes it was the Orphans' fault, sometimes the Candies, sometimes the Scarlets. In the end, a death is a death. The very same principle applied to Candies. Whether it be the result of a unique orphan, a fellow overly competitive Candy, or even a Scarlet that feared being surpassed, in any case death meant death. There was no escaping that fact—nobody could live forever.
  
  Or that was the thought at least, but there proved to be an opportunity. While other Candies perished, or stole the seats of the Scarlets that trained them—Arden remained, unmoving. Their abilities were ill-suited for competition. They simply did not function on Scarlets. Growth was impossible. They were at the peak of their potential were they not? Perhaps that's why they managed to live as long as they did. Their teachers need not worry about being surpassed, and their peers need not worry about competition. They could simply carry out their duties in peace.
  
  Perhaps that's why they approved the youth ritual.
  
  Such an opportunity, they said. Such an honor, they said. Such a privilege, they said.
  
  Just how long has it been since then? Were there any recognizable faces anymore? The ranks of the House Keepers were constantly fluctuating. Blushings, Candies, Scarlets. Fresh blood become old blood, and old blood become spilt blood. Constantly, and endlessly. This was the natural flow of things. Death was inevitable. There was nobody who could not be simply replaced. Yet, there was single name stifling this routine. A Candy that persisted. Unmoving, unchanging. Waiting... waiting... waiting...
  
  So what good is ambition for someone waiting to die?
  
  

  
  —————​

 

[TheTaleTellers]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Powers
• History
• Themes
• Notes

• 
  Name:
  Sinwynque
  
  Nickname:
  Swyn
  Sin
  Cynque
  
  One word to describe them:
  Silent
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?:
  Orphan
  
  What kind?:
  Selecouth
  
  Selcouth:
  Awakened
  
  Age:
  9
  
• 
  FC:
  View attachment 842558
  Height: 4'1Ft
  Weight: 32 Lbs
  
• 
  Personality Traits:
  + Observant
  + Stoic
  + Logical
  + Dutiful
  + Sharp-witted
  + Patient
  + Understanding
  
  = Neutral
  = Mute
  = Unsentimental
  = Absentminded
  = Impassive
  = Obedient
  = Sarcastic
  
  - Pessimistic
  - Messy
  - Forgetful
  - Cold
  - Cautious
  - Morbid
  - Indecisive
  
  Hobbies:
  - Reading
  - Feeding and playing with their pet chicken
  - Choosing someone to follow around and do whatever they say (Secretively is a way to get close to someone, gain their trust and figure them out.)
  - Stalking
  - Games
  - Climbing
  
  
• 
  Powers:
  Wind Stealth - The wind around them and pushes things away from them, muffles the noises their feet would make, also it makes it so that they never leave footprints and the wind also pushes their scent upward making it very difficult for them to be tracked.
  Wind Agility - They are extremely light on their feet, allowing them to run extremely fast and jump extremely high.
  Wind Manipulation - They can control and manupulate the wind, using the wind to blow in a certain direction to slow or speed up targets, suspend them into the air or just straight up unleash a sudden yet violet torrent of wind to push back and harm targets.
  
  Limits:
  - Wind Stealth makes it so that the wind is constantly blowing around them, which can be quite a nuisance.
  - Wind Agility still takes a lot of stamina to use and can make them get exhausted more quickly, not really good for long runs. Plus they seem to weigh less than normal,making them easy to rag-doll around, but they atleast don't usually take much fall damage.
  - It has less of a effect on those that have more weight to them, making so that the heavier some something or someone is, the less effect their wind will have on them.
  
• 
  Backstory: As far as Sinwynque can Remember that had always lived in the orphanage, they spent a lot of time playing with other kids though they were usually at disadvantage due to their inability to speak. in some of the game. Still though they were quite good at sneaking around and one day at night, they went outside on a full moon night, following one of the Orphans they knew so well, but they were surprised to find that their body was mutilated, with only a spoiled orphan standing over them with a eerie smile on their face. Sinwynque quickly retreated from the place without allowing themselves to be noticed, after that uneventful day their personality shifted a bit and they became more reclusive,, calm-minded and spent quite a bit of time exploring the outside more so than playing with the other kids. Eventually they were able to find themselves a newly hatched chicken, which they quickly took for themselves and went on to take them back to their home. The chicken grew a bit popular with other kids, so they were sure to occasionally leave them with someone they knew on occasions or to use the chicken as a sort of distraction tool that they could use. They then spent a bit of time finding sharp metals they could use as a weapon in order to kill one of if they ever encountered that monster again. Soon enough their chance came to them, when they were spent their time stalking someone in the night, eventually coming across a spoiled who was preparing to attack the person they were watching. Instead of running like last time, they took advantage of their back being turned to them and used the sharp metal make shift weapon they had with them and stabbed the creature from behind, killing it. They then felt a odd sensation as the powers began to awaken,and they quickly moved went away from the area at a speed faster than normal, they grew more curoius about their abilities and the constant breeze blowing around them, so they went on to discover more about it while hiding the abilities from others. Eventually they grew comfortable enough with their abilities that they, went back to hunting down Spoiled children and saving Orphans from them, though most of their assitance in helping Orphans were very subtle that it would be hard to even guess it was them, but on the very rare occasions when they see a chance to kill a spoiled Orphan, they will leap into action to kill them in order to fuel their powers.
  
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up?
  A Ranger
  
• 
  
  Theme:
  
  
  
• 
  - They have a pet chicken.
  - They are mute.
  - They typically wear a weighted cloak.
  

 

[TheTaleTellers]

Ares Lýkos

tags, location, outfit etc. this little bar is also scrollable!

General
Name: Ares Lýkos

Gender: Male. Hates that people mistake him for a girl simply because of his face and long hair.

One word to describe them: Instinctual

Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan

What kind?: Spoiled

If Selcouth/Spoiled: Awakened

Age: 9

Personality Traits:
Positive - Charming, Intelligent, Genuine, Independent, Trustworthy, Strong, Natural
Neutral - Honest, Observant, Instinctive, Competitive, Self-Conscious, Playful, Private
Negative - Stubborn, Rebellious, Aggressive, Feral, Possessive, Childish, Jealous

Hobbies: Singing, hunting, Eating new foods, and hoarding soft pillows because they are the best for sleeping.

Powers: Has the ability to transform into a wolf that is quite larger than the ones most are use to, due to his young age he his about the size of a Great Dane with more growth awaiting him. There is an in-between stage where he is able to take on a bipedal wolf form but Ares hates how his humanity takes a sadistic twist in that form although the strength and resilience comes along with it, rarely emerges outside of a full moon. All of his senses are heightened to make him the Apex predator
Passive 1 - Communicates via telepathy in the animal forms in order to be understood by non-humans
Passive 2 - High body temperature that makes him resistant to colder environments

Limits: The bipedal form gives the Beast a better chance at taking over while the quadrupedal form causes Ares to require more food after reverting back to his humanoid form.
Passive 1 Limit - Can only communicate with one or more people within a 30 ft. radius
Passive 2 Limit - Is prone to overheating quite easily

Backstory: Ares was one of the few that had splotchy memories of living with his family but they were always tied to some unknown rage that would trigger the Beast to push towards the surface as if it was protecting him from whatever happened. He doesn't like to dwell on the past anyway so it doesn't bother him as long as it is not brought up. Ares had only been in the Orphanage for a week so he was still in a half feral state with all of the new interactions. He was discovered by a Blushing servant that spotted Ares dragging a young elk by its throat fully intent on eating it as he had done plenty of times before. She had mistook him for one of the orphans that had wondered off and reached down to pick him up. Ares snarled and bit forcefully into the servant's shoulder but was still brought into the Orphanage while fighting the whole time.


What do they want to be when they grow up? Ares would like to be a Game Warden, he feels that his skills and talents would be the most helpful for surveying and protecting animals.

coded by natasha.

 

[TheTaleTellers]

Name: JinxView attachment 842683

One word to describe them: Lazy

Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan

What kind?: Spoiled

If Selcouth/Spoiled: Awakened


Age: 16

Personality Traits (7 Positive, 7 Neutral, 7 Negative):
Positive:
Open-Minded
Relaxed
Capable
Flexible
Honest
Patient
Intelligent

Neutral:
Absent-minded
Breezy
Simple
Guarded
Proud
Stolid
Non-competitive

Negative:
Lazy
Arrogant
Thoughtless
Vulgar
Unfriendly
Self-centered
Murderous
Hobbies: Reading, Bird gazing, Fishkeeping

Powers:

Nonpassive- Electricity manipulation -The ability to produce electricity from her body. Usually in the form of lightning bolts

Passive 1 - Energy absorption - jinx absorbs the energy in the air constantly, building up reserves from the inside ready to be unleashed

Passive 2 - Particle manipulation- to manipulate the charged particles within herself to phase through walls

Nonpassive limit- The longer she uses her abilities the weaker her attacks are.


Passive 1 limit- the more active she is the less energy she can absorb


Passive 2 limit - Harms herself in the process, making her vulnerable for a period of time.

Spoiler: Examples of her powers

View attachment 842686

Backstory: Jinx can not remember much of how she ended up here, except for faint memories of a forest, a cabin, two adults with eyes just like hers. Were they her parents? The poor girl couldn't remember, every time she tried to hone in on those memories she would feel a jolt of pain as if trying to remember would do her more harm than good, and thus her brain forced her to forget.

However, her freshest memories were that of running in the night, the pale moon illuminating her scratched and scraped skin. Her panting breaths tinged with fear and confusion behind them.
It would almost feel like an eternity before a clear path would show her new world, confined in a suffocating building, the white rabbit orphanage. Jinx had no idea how she ended up there, what was she running away from in the first place? The only thing that was clear to her now is that before coming here, these feelings of a gnawing but the growing desire for something carnal, something that would make Jinx non-human. At first, it was easy to push aside as uneasiness, trying to get used to a new routine.

But as the months and eventual years came to pass Jinx grew restless, It would eventually take a hold of her psyche, her will power not destroyed, but reawakened, in the form of sacrifice.

However the feelings of depravity that would keep her restless seemed to dull down if she just lazed around. forcing her body to become complacent so she could tackle her mind, an inner struggle of carnal desires against the want of normalcy. As she watches the other children grow, her sense of restraint weakens, and the inner monster grows stronger yet again.

What do they want to be when they grow up? Hotel sleep tester

 

[TheTaleTellers]

 

[TheTaleTellers]

 

[lion.]

Winter

“I'm sorry. I'm here for you now.”

Winter Appello

One word: Trusting

Spoiled Orphan

Awakened

Sixteen

Future Wannabe Career:

Therapist

Hobbies:

instruments(loves violin/piano), board games, public speaking, rock painting(srsly, boredom drives you crazy), giving massages

virtues + neutrals

temperate

self-assured

articulate

eloquent

insightful

responsible

visionary

nosy

secretive

keen

quick thinker

stubborn

curious

chic

satiric(at times)

vices

audacious

shallow

manipulative

fake

flatters excessively

demands adoration

greedy

Powers & Limits

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”- Lewis Carroll.

An apology by yours truly: Winter Appello. On nights on which the full, golden moon grabs a chair as a standby audience and sighs measurably into an elbow of clouds, Winter Apello bids time in decisions. To be or or not to be? A breeze yawns in anticipation, awaiting for the scraping of bones and contortions. The simplicity in the spark of a smile begins it all. Devise for yourself his smile that is wide. Then, wider. Asudden, it’s widening as much so that his cheeks stretch back to the crevicing holes of his ears. His skin thins momentarily, and you need not to invent how his ivory bones move when you can clearly see it; his gelatinous limbs construct like piano keys added to its wooden base. White keys came first, his veins bursting and adhering together in more than one difference of positions than the previous. The black keys followed on top. His limbs stoned to scales of a hundred skinned parrot fish. His talons inserted themselves into his forelegs, and antennae of ants grew out his skull. Last, come through the skin of his back: his black wired wings.

Passive: Emotional Inducement. (Jabberwock is associated with fear, guilt, and morbid emotions).

Limits:

1. The shifting process is not entirely fast; his body needs to reinstate with itself what has occurred. It needs to become comfortable to his adjustments.
2. His senses become over heightened meaning that blaring noises hurt and too much light burns.
3. Mythologically, a jabberwock is killed by a vorpal sword, but for the state of his case, anything made of holy or enchanted weapons does damage.
4. Markings of transformation remain after he’s returned back to human state. His nails might bleed due to the often malformed talons. His back could sore with blisters.
5. Emotional Inducement can be only exhibited through soft snapping at both the right and left side of the victim's temples. It only has a lasting effect of minutes at most and requires that the victim is mentally weak, tired, or focused. It does not work if the victim closes their eyes.

backstory

Playing. Eating. Sleeping. He tried to rewind.

Playing. Eating. Sleeping. Getting nowhere, he tried to go forward again with his memories.

They were playing a game with him. They made his ropy legs run distances to the very door of this compelling establishment in which he had calendered fifteen total years spent. He was free before he was herded to the manor. This damned, trifling manor.

Oh, the green. The massive enraptured of the forest which is dark, but awfully heavenly when compared to the orphanage where dreams are stomped on and children disappear.

Independently growing up, Winter renewed the game. If he was powerful enough, one day he could…

When his powers awakened, he kept patient. He has, thus far, competed for the possession of the title of loving big brother. Everything is a representation of the mere ball game he played when he was younger. He continues to race the ball, tapping lightly his behavior so other orphans don't escape the sides of his shoes. He continues to skim them under the grass, the soles of his shoes like a predator who nonlinearly dodges suspicions of malice while fiercely on the offensive.

nine lives

 

[Lost]

Elias, Spoiled Orphan​

• Basic Information
• Powers
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  Age: 15
  
  One word to describe them: Conflicted
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Dream Occupation: Author
  
  Hobbies:
  
  • Reading: Elias is an avid reader; his room is a cluttered mess of a library, with various books piled on the floor, under the bed - pretty much any free surface was repurposed into de-facto book storage.
  • 
    
  • Bird-watching: Elias has always found a certain peace in nature; captured by a desire to fly away himself were it possible, birds hold a particular interest to him.
  • 
    
  • Drawing: While no great talent, Elias is fond of making rough sketches of that which he sees around him. This is often paired in tandem with his time spent bird-watching.
  • 
    
  • Cooking: Though he rarely gets the chance in a place where every need is catered to, Elias likes to cook.
  
  
  
• 
  POWERS:
  
  • Active Power - Aspect of the Beast: Elias' ability is one he scarcely uses, for it requires him to embrace his inner demon. Through channeling the power of the Beast, he can shift his body to match that of the monster within, shifting blue eyes to an eerie blood-red and hands to dark, shadowy claws that emit wisps of smoke. Visual changes aside, the transformation grants enhanced strength and speed. The rest of the form is a mystery to him, as though he could theoretically take the transformation farther, he's never been willing to risk giving more control to the Beast within.
  • Passive Power - Regeneration: As a passive ability, Elias heals quicker than most people. It's not immediate, and lethal wounds are still, well, lethal, but a cut that might take an average human a week to heal usually only takes him one to two days.
  • Passive Power - Monstrosity's Gaze: Elias' senses are slightly heightened due to the feral nature of his powers.
  LIMITS:
  
  • Aspect of the Beast: There is a reason Elias spurns his power, and only a fragment of it is out of principle. Every time he channels the Beast, he is forced to relinquish a part of himself, to give more ground to the monster he so desperately wants to be rid of. Additionally, because he refuses to use more than a partial transformation, his power doesn't utilize its full potential, and is thus weaker than those of his peers.
  • Regeneration: As mentioned above, this power won't save his life, nor will it regenerate lost limbs. Simply put, it's little more than a convenient side-effect of his active ability.
  • Monstrosity's Gaze: While his keener senses are helpful in a pinch, they aren't a great deal better than an average human's unless he is utilizing his active power
• 
  POSITIVE:
  
  • +Patient
  • +Steadfast
  • +Humane
  • +Intelligent
  • +Quick-witted
  • +Idealistic
  • +Insightful
  NEUTRAL:
  
  • ~Stoic
  • ~Private
  • ~Skeptical
  • ~Curious
  • ~Observant
  • ~Cautious
  • ~Quiet
  NEGATIVE:
  
  • -Distant
  • -Self-deprecating
  • -Distrusting
  • -Disorderly
  • -Stubborn
  • -Anxious
  • -Aloof
• 
  Release...
  
  No, Elias thought back as he watched a tumult of dark clouds approach from his window. It was a small space, his room, cluttered with books and trinkets from trips long forgotten. Barring his bed, the only other piece of furniture was the chair on which he sat. It was an old, weathered thing, but it served his needs just fine. A thing to sit and read on most days, and one to sit and see on days like this. Stormy days, where the weather seemed to reflect the conflict within Elias himself.
  
  He had been offered better accommodations; burdened with a monster, they thought him entitled to more than this small space. But he refused, because he liked the view, and because the Beast had wanted something bigger. He enjoyed doing little things to spite it, to remind himself that he possessed some semblance of control. Silly, that he would need a reminder of his humanity, but one did silly things when their body was not quite their own.
  
  A flash of lighting brightened the room briefly, heralding the storm's approach. Once, twice more, and the rainfall started. The pitter-patter of the droplets on stone soothed his worries, if only for a moment. He'd always liked the rain; it was calming, in a way, and sometimes it seemed to keep the Beast at bay. Not today, though.
  
  Release! It demanded, more insistent.
  
  No, Elias responded calmly.
  
  He knew it was odd, to think of the Beast as a separate entity, to spar with it within the confines of his own mind. As far as he knew, the others didn't, but then again, none had attempted to resist the call as he had. Perhaps it wasn't real; perhaps this was his way of rationalizing his past actions, of giving himself hope that one day, he would be free of it. A harrowing thought, to be sure.
  
  RELEASE! The Beast howled suddenly, clawing from the depths of his soul. Elias closed his eyes, pained.
  
  There was a part of him, small as it was, that wondered if his resistance was fruitless. Maybe it would be better if he gave in, and saved himself the pain wrought from resistance. Maybe he was a fool for hanging on to a sense of morality that all around him had discarded. Maybe the Beast was inevitable.
  
  His thoughts turned towards a memory, of the night the Beast had Awakened. The night he had killed his only friend.
  
  Perhaps 'memory' wasn't a good way to phrase it; more flashes of a time too horrible to remember. A corpse, mangled, wearing Andrea's laced pink dress. Himself, blood-covered, staring wide-eyed at the moon. They'd been together from the start, when both had stumbled through the woods. Neither had any recollection of a past life, nor anything but clothes on their backs. At the very least, though, they'd had each other. Together, they had survived, had found some degree of normalcy in a world of madness.
  
  She had been the closest thing to a family Elias had ever had. And he was her murderer.
  
  The thought steeled him, and he finally found the strength to respond. No, he answered with finality. Not again. Never again.
  
  After what felt like an eternity, the Beast retreated, and Elias' mind was his alone once more. The Beast would be back - it always was - but for now, he was alone.
  

 

[TheTaleTellers]

Winter

“I'm sorry. I'm here for you now.”

Winter Appello

One word: Trusting

Spoiled Orphan

Awakened

Sixteen

Future Wannabe Career:

Therapist

Hobbies:

instruments(loves violin/piano), board games, public speaking, rock painting(srsly, boredom drives you crazy), giving massages

virtues + neutrals

temperate

self-assured

articulate

eloquent

insightful

responsible

visionary

nosy

secretive

keen

quick thinker

stubborn

curious

chic

satiric(at times)

vices

audacious

shallow

manipulative

fake

flatters excessively

demands adoration

greedy

Powers & Limits

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”- Lewis Carroll.

An apology by yours truly: Winter Appello. On nights on which the full, golden moon grabs a chair as a standby audience and sighs measurably into an elbow of clouds, Winter Apello bids time in decisions. To be or or not to be? A breeze yawns in anticipation, awaiting for the scraping of bones and contortions. The simplicity in the spark of a smile begins it all. Devise for yourself his smile that is wide. Then, wider. Asudden, it’s widening as much so that his cheeks stretch back to the crevicing holes of his ears. His skin thins momentarily, and you need not to invent how his ivory bones move when you can clearly see it; his gelatinous limbs construct like piano keys added to its wooden base. White keys came first, his veins bursting and adhering together in more than one difference of positions than the previous. The black keys followed on top. His limbs stoned to scales of a hundred skinned parrot fish. His talons inserted themselves into his forelegs, and antennae of ants grew out his skull. Last, come through the skin of his back: his black wired wings.

Passive: Emotional Inducement. (Jabberwock is associated with fear, guilt, and morbid emotions).

Limits:

1. The shifting process is not entirely fast; his body needs to reinstate with itself what has occurred. It needs to become comfortable to his adjustments.
2. His senses become over heightened meaning that blaring noises hurt and too much light burns.
3. Mythologically, a jabberwock is killed by a vorpal sword, but for the state of his case, anything made of holy or enchanted weapons does damage.
4. Markings of transformation remain after he’s returned back to human state. His nails might bleed due to the often malformed talons. His back could sore with blisters.
5. Emotional Inducement can be only exhibited through soft snapping at both the right and left side of the victim's temples. It only has a lasting effect of minutes at most and requires that the victim is mentally weak, tired, or focused. It does not work if the victim closes their eyes.

backstory

Playing. Eating. Sleeping. He tried to rewind.

Playing. Eating. Sleeping. Getting nowhere, he tried to go forward again with his memories.

They were playing a game with him. They made his ropy legs run distances to the very door of this compelling establishment in which he had calendered fifteen total years spent. He was free before he was herded to the manor. This damned, trifling manor.

Oh, the green. The massive enraptured of the forest which is dark, but awfully heavenly when compared to the orphanage where dreams are stomped on and children disappear.

Independently growing up, Winter renewed the game. If he was powerful enough, one day he could…

When his powers awakened, he kept patient. He has, thus far, competed for the possession of the title of loving big brother. Everything is a representation of the mere ball game he played when he was younger. He continues to race the ball, tapping lightly his behavior so other orphans don't escape the sides of his shoes. He continues to skim them under the grass, the soles of his shoes like a predator who nonlinearly dodges suspicions of malice while fiercely on the offensive.

nine lives

 

[TheTaleTellers]

Elias, Spoiled Orphan​

• Basic Information
• Powers
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  View attachment 844080
  Age: 15
  
  One word to describe them: Conflicted
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Dream Occupation: Author
  
  Hobbies:
  
  • Reading: Elias is an avid reader; his room is a cluttered mess of a library, with various books piled on the floor, under the bed - pretty much any free surface was repurposed into de-facto book storage.
  • 
    
  • Bird-watching: Elias has always found a certain peace in nature; captured by a desire to fly away himself were it possible, birds hold a particular interest to him.
  • 
    
  • Drawing: While no great talent, Elias is fond of making rough sketches of that which he sees around him. This is often paired in tandem with his time spent bird-watching.
  • 
    
  • Cooking: Though he rarely gets the chance in a place where every need is catered to, Elias likes to cook.
  
  
  
• 
  POWERS:
  
  • Active Power - Aspect of the Beast: Elias' ability is one he scarcely uses, for it requires him to embrace his inner demon. Through channeling the power of the Beast, he can shift his body to match that of the monster within, shifting blue eyes to an eerie blood-red and hands to dark, shadowy claws that emit wisps of smoke. Visual changes aside, the transformation grants enhanced strength and speed. The rest of the form is a mystery to him, as though he could theoretically take the transformation farther, he's never been willing to risk giving more control to the Beast within.
  • Passive Power - Regeneration: As a passive ability, Elias heals quicker than most people. It's not immediate, and lethal wounds are still, well, lethal, but a cut that might take an average human a week to heal usually only takes him one to two days.
  • Passive Power - Monstrosity's Gaze: Elias' senses are slightly heightened due to the feral nature of his powers.
  LIMITS:
  
  • Aspect of the Beast: There is a reason Elias spurns his power, and only a fragment of it is out of principle. Every time he channels the Beast, he is forced to relinquish a part of himself, to give more ground to the monster he so desperately wants to be rid of. Additionally, because he refuses to use more than a partial transformation, his power doesn't utilize its full potential, and is thus weaker than those of his peers.
  • Regeneration: As mentioned above, this power won't save his life, nor will it regenerate lost limbs. Simply put, it's little more than a convenient side-effect of his active ability.
  • Monstrosity's Gaze: While his keener senses are helpful in a pinch, they aren't a great deal better than an average human's unless he is utilizing his active power
• 
  POSITIVE:
  
  • +Patient
  • +Steadfast
  • +Humane
  • +Intelligent
  • +Quick-witted
  • +Introspective
  • +Insightful
  NEUTRAL:
  
  • ~Stoic
  • ~Private
  • ~Skeptical
  • ~Curious
  • ~Observant
  • ~Cautious
  • ~Quiet
  NEGATIVE:
  
  • -Distant
  • -Cynical
  • -Distrusting
  • -Disorderly
  • -Stubborn
  • -Anxious
  • -Aloof
• 
  Release...
  
  No, Elias thought back as he watched a tumult of dark clouds approach from his window. It was a small space, his room, cluttered with books and trinkets from trips long forgotten. Barring his bed, the only other piece of furniture was the chair on which he sat. It was an old, weathered thing, but it served his needs just fine. A thing to sit and read on most days, and one to sit and see on days like this. Stormy days, where the weather seemed to reflect the conflict within Elias himself.
  
  He had been offered better accommodations; burdened with a monster, they thought him entitled to more than this small space. But he refused, because he liked the view, and because the Beast had wanted something bigger. He enjoyed doing little things to spite it, to remind himself that he possessed some semblance of control. Silly, that he would need a reminder of his humanity, but one did silly things when their body was not quite their own.
  
  A flash of lighting brightened the room briefly, heralding the storm's approach. Once, twice more, and the rainfall started. The pitter-patter of the droplets on stone soothed his worries, if only for a moment. He'd always liked the rain; it was calming, in a way, and sometimes it seemed to keep the Beast at bay. Not today, though.
  
  Release! It demanded, more insistent.
  
  No, Elias responded calmly.
  
  He knew it was odd, to think of the Beast as a separate entity, to spar with it within the confines of his own mind. As far as he knew, the others didn't, but then again, none had attempted to resist the call as he had. Perhaps it wasn't real; perhaps this was his way of rationalizing his past actions, of giving himself hope that one day, he would be free of it. A harrowing thought, to be sure.
  
  RELEASE! The Beast howled suddenly, clawing from the depths of his soul. Elias closed his eyes, pained.
  
  There was a part of him, small as it was, that wondered if his resistance was fruitless. Maybe it would be better if he gave in, and saved himself the pain wrought from resistance. Maybe he was a fool for hanging on to a sense of morality that all around him had discarded. Maybe the Beast of inevitable.
  
  His thoughts turned towards a memory, of the night the Beast had Awakened. The night he had killed his only friend.
  
  Perhaps 'memory' wasn't a good way to phrase it; more flashes of a time too horrible to remember. A corpse, mangled, wearing Andrea's laced pink dress. Himself, blood-covered, staring wide-eyed at the moon. They'd been together from the start, when both had stumbled through the woods. Neither had any recollection of a past life, nor anything but clothes on their backs. At the very least, though, they'd had each other. Together, they had survived, had found some degree of normalcy in a world of madness.
  
  She had been the closest thing to a family Elias had ever had. And he was her murderer.
  
  The thought steeled him, and he finally found the strength to respond. No, he answered with finality. Not again. Never again.
  
  After what felt like an eternity, the Beast retreated, and Elias' mind was his alone once more. The Beast would be back - it always was - but for now, he was alone.
  

 

[Heterological]

• Markus
• Kira
• Avius

• 
  Name: Markus Everglen
  
  
  
  One word to describe them: Paranoid
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan
  
  Kind: Selcouth
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Age: 11
  
  Vices: Overcautious, paranoid, selfish, cold, deceptive, untrusting, doubtful
  
  Neutrals: Intense, witty, stubborn, obedient, agressive, pessimistic, unsentimental
  
  Virtues: Efficient, methodical, responsible, orderly, social, hard-working, caring
  
  Hobbies: Reading, parkour, drawing, origami
  
  Matter Replication
  
  Active: Markus can transform himself into any material that he touches. For example, he can turn himself into steel and become more durable/stronger. He still has the same mobility when transformed, and he has no regular body organs/blood.
  
  Limit: This power can be a detriment; some materials are weaker to certain attacks than others. For example, titanium is very strong, but becomes brittle at cold temperatures.
  
  Passive: His transformation also aids in healing him slightly; the more he assimilates, the more he'll heal.
  
  Limit: This is a very slight thing; he won't mend broken bones very easily, but light cuts and bruises will disappear very quickly.
  
  Backstory: Markus had no memory of the outside world. The only thing he remembered was a bad feeling about the White Rabbit Orphanage when he'd first seen it, but he had been hungry and tired and thirsty, so Markus had walked into the doors and had become lost ever since. A constant feeling that someone was watching had creeped over him; Markus always had to resist an urge to glance behind him. Instead, he kept up a perfect facade. Nobody saw anything unusual about him. Markus intended it to stay that way. He had developed a strict code, meant to keep himself from getting killed. It worked, and he stuck to it.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up? Magician
  
• 
  Name: Korri
  
  Nickname: Kira
  
  
  
  One word to describe them: Ammoral
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan
  
  Kind: Spoiled
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Age: 11
  
  Vices: Morally ambiguous, sociopathic, egotistical, controlling, rebellious, impulsive, illogical
  
  Neutrals: Competitive, playful, proud, witty, determined, casual, stubborn
  
  Virtues: light-hearted, optimistic, patient, warm, observant, trustworthy, honest
  
  Hobbies: Drawing, tiny acts of arson, wrestling, tinkering with robotics
  
  Technological Body Manipulation
  
  Passive: Kira can always hear, or "see" different frequencies. She can listen in on wireless phone calls or "see" messages sent via email.
  
  Limit: The range for this is pretty limited, all things considered. It caps out at 10 meters, and the farther away it is, the more distorted it gets. Kira can also only hear wireless signals, so any cables will prevent her from eavesdropping.
  
  Passive: She has a natural gift for robotics and making them. Kira understands the mechanics of a lot of machines. She describes it as feeling the robots speak to her and tell her how it's done.
  
  Active: She can shift her body, or just a part of it, into a robotic version of itself. This gives her more durability, more strength, etc. Kira can even modify her robotic body with different devices, but these need to be incorporated into that robotic body before they become permanent. The only robotic modification: a small lighter attached to her left palm, for quick and easy arson.
  
  Limit: There is only one human body and one robotic body that Kira has access to. If a human part gets hurt, Kira's corresponding robotic part will not suffer the same injury, and vice versa. If she shifts from an injured human body to her robotic body and back, she will not have healed. To heal her robotic body, Kira needs time and concentration.
  
  Backstory: Kira had no sense of morality, of right and wrong, of anything of the sort. The only thing she cared to remember was walking in through those doors and doing whatever she felt like doing. It was perfectly okay for her to burn through walls, for her to break silverware over others' heads, for her to push aside all who annoyed her. There was no other frame of reference for Kira. Besides, the other orphans had no future; they were repetitive people, doing the same thing, over and over. She was making life interesting for them.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up? Firewoman (aka woman that sets things on fire)
  
• 
  
  Name: Avius Ainymasilui
  
  One word to describe them: Obsessive
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan
  
  Kind: Spoiled
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Age: 12
  
  Vices: Obsessive, morbid, unfeeling, deceptive, egotistical, creepy, selfish
  
  Neutrals: Serious, methodical, curious, pragmatic, competitive, stubborn, witty
  
  Virtues: Neat, punctual, calculating, efficient, observant, pessimistic, patient
  
  Hobbies: Origami, spying on others, hide-n-seek, origami fighting (making two origami fight to the death)
  
  Paper/Art Manipulation
  
  Active: Avius can make his paper/art creations into his puppets, manipulating them to function like they were designed to. Markus can make paper airplanes actually fly, create honest-to-god ninja stars, and even create walkie-talkies. They stay 3D or 2D, and retain details that Avius draws onto them.
  
  Limit: His creations need to be made with time, care, and concentration. Otherwise, they fall apart very easily. Also, his creations are much more fragile. Avius can make a paper gun that actually shoots bullets, but there's no guarantee that the gun won't shatter when you press the trigger.
  
  Passive: Avius has natural skill; his hands are nimble, steady, and sure. He can determine the measurements of angles and distances very well, which comes useful when folding paper.
  
  Passive: He can always see through a puppet with drawn eyes, hear through puppets with ears, etc.
  
  Limit: It can get overwhelming, concentrating on two things at once. If Avius stumbles over his words or is late, it's because he's experiencing two sets of vision and sound.
  
  Backstory: Avius's first memory was gazing upon White Rabbit Orphanage and thinking as a three-year-old: that's my future home. He developed some mild OCD symptoms at a young age, causing him to repeat small actions in prime numbers. This grew out of hand, and it's now become a matter of neatness, symmetry, and being orderly. It is why he hated those children who seemed so innocent. Couldn't they see that this belonged to the powerful people? Why didn't they just stop resisting; why did they keep trying to act like their lives were normal? It made no sense.
  
  He got down to the bottom of it. Avius fashioned a small helicopter with a camera over the course of a week or two, and flew it into a nearby dorm room via the window. He learned that they really were that naive, and it made him angry. This well of resentment grew, buried deep within. It scared Avius. He tried to satisfy it with the killings of animals, and then psychologically breaking down orphans, but that only made it hungrier. The chaos within was combated with the neatness in his life, but that neatness was temporary. Avius didn't want to embrace the chaos... but if he didn't, he would become broken.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up? Artist
  

 

[TheTaleTellers]

• Markus
• Kira

• 
  Name: Markus Everglen
  
  
  
  One word to describe them: Paranoid
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan
  
  Kind: Selcouth
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Age: 11
  
  Vices: Overcautious, paranoid, selfish, cold, deceptive, untrusting, doubtful
  
  Neutrals: Intense, witty, stubborn, obedient, agressive, pessimistic, unsentimental
  
  Virtues: Efficient, methodical, responsible, orderly, social, hard-working, caring
  
  Hobbies: Reading, parkour, drawing, origami
  
  Matter Replication
  
  Active: Markus can transform himself into any material that he touches. For example, he can turn himself into steel and become more durable/stronger. He still has the same mobility when transformed, and he has no regular body organs/blood.
  
  Limit: This power can be a detriment; some materials are weaker to certain attacks than others. For example, titanium is very strong, but becomes brittle at cold temperatures.
  
  Passive: His transformation also aids in healing him slightly; the more he assimilates, the more he'll heal.
  
  Limit: This is a very slight thing; he won't mend broken bones very easily, but light cuts and bruises will disappear very quickly.
  
  Backstory: Markus had no memory of the outside world. The only thing he remembered was a bad feeling about the White Rabbit Orphanage when he'd first seen it, but he had been hungry and tired and thirsty, so Markus had walked into the doors and had become lost ever since. A constant feeling that someone was watching had creeped over him; Markus always had to resist an urge to glance behind him. Instead, he kept up a perfect facade. Nobody saw anything unusual about him. Markus intended it to stay that way. He had developed a strict code, meant to keep himself from getting killed. It worked, and he stuck to it.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up? Magician
  
• 
  Name: Korri
  
  Nickname: Kira
  
  
  
  One word to describe them: Ammoral
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?: Orphan
  
  Kind: Spoiled
  
  Awakened or Unawakened: Awakened
  
  Age: 11
  
  Vices: Morally ambiguous, sociopathic, egotistical, controlling, rebellious, impulsive, illogical
  
  Neutrals: Competitive, playful, proud, witty, determined, casual, stubborn
  
  Virtues: light-hearted, optimistic, patient, warm, observant, trustworthy, honest
  
  Hobbies: Drawing, tiny acts of arson, wrestling, tinkering with robotics
  
  Technological Body Manipulation
  
  Passive: Kira can always hear, or "see" different frequencies. She can listen in on wireless phone calls or "see" messages sent via email.
  
  Limit: The range for this is pretty limited, all things considered. It caps out at 10 meters, and the farther away it is, the more distorted it gets. Kira can also only hear wireless signals, so any cables will prevent her from eavesdropping.
  
  Passive: She has a natural gift for robotics and making them. Kira understands the mechanics of a lot of machines. She describes it as feeling the robots speak to her and tell her how it's done.
  
  Active: She can shift her body, or just a part of it, into a robotic version of itself. This gives her more durability, more strength, etc. Kira can even modify her robotic body with different devices, but these need to be incorporated into that robotic body before they become permanent. The only robotic modification: a small lighter attached to her left palm, for quick and easy arson.
  
  Limit: There is only one human body and one robotic body that Kira has access to. If a human part gets hurt, Kira's corresponding robotic part will not suffer the same injury, and vice versa. If she shifts from an injured human body to her robotic body and back, she will not have healed. To heal her robotic body, Kira needs time and concentration.
  
  Backstory: Kira had no sense of morality, of right and wrong, of anything of the sort. The only thing she cared to remember was walking in through those doors and doing whatever she felt like doing. It was perfectly okay for her to burn through walls, for her to break silverware over others' heads, for her to push aside all who annoyed her. There was no other frame of reference for Kira. Besides, the other orphans had no future; they were repetitive people, doing the same thing, over and over. She was making life interesting for them.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up? Firewoman (aka woman that sets things on fire)
  

 

[liostwolf]

Name:
Sara


One word to describe them:
Motherly


Orphan or Housekeeper?:
Orphan

What kind?:
Selcouth

If Selcouth/Spoiled: Awakened or Unawakened?
Unawakened

Age:
14

FC(Only art based FC please):

Personality Traits:

+Outgoing
+Kind
+Caring
+Gentle
+Clever
+Clean
+Protective

~Skeptikal
~Curious
~Predictable
~Neutral
~Emotional
~Stubborn
~Stern

-Easily angered
-Inpatient
-Dishonest
-Mysterious
-Bossy
-Arrogant
-Antsy

*Emmi is known as the mother in almost all of the groups she is in

Hobbies:
Collecting dirt
Tending to plants
Walking
Drawing



Powers:
Can make plants grow but not without draining lots of her energy if it a large plant (Flower and grass naturally grow at her feet but go away once she walks away)



Limits:
She can only make one large plants grow a day (Ex. Large vines and trees)


Backstory:
Emmi feels as though she has always lived in the orphanage but she has a few memories of the past most of which have to do with her and a greenhouse that led to the orphanage and hands that picked her up and brought her there. When she first moved into the orphanage she was 4 and lots of older orphans tried to comfort her but she pushed them away so it surprised people when she started to comfort the other orphans when they were down. She has been at the orphanage for 10 years now and has not killed anyone because she finds it morally wrong and disrespectful.


What do they want to be when they grow up?:
a vet or a nurse.​

 

[Firelie]

BLESSED BE THE REBEL.

「Felicia Walace」

. . .

⇩

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4

• 「 BASICS 」

  name — Felicia Walace
  
  Word to Describe them — Tenacious
  
  gender — female
  
  age — 13
  
  birthday — March 12th
  
  height — 4'8
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper? — Orphan (Selcouth)
  
  Awakened? — No
  
  
  
• 「 PERSONA 」

  PERSONALITY TRAITS:
  POSITIVE:
  

  • Independant
  • Capable
  • Resourceful
  • Athletic
  • Decisive
  • Clever
  • Observant

  NEUTRAL:
  

  • Boyish
  • Stubborn
  • Tough
  • Oppurtunist
  • Hyper Competitive
  • Folksy
  • Private

  NEGATIVE:
  

  • Defensive
  • Uneductated
  • Abrasive
  • Rash
  • Boistorous
  • Trashy
  • Criminal
  • Greedy

  --
  Hobbies: Felicia does not normally have a lot of free time, but with what little she has she normally seeks out those she is close with to either follow them around or to converse with them. She also has a hobby of collecting random trinkets she finds pretty and hiding them. Additionally, she has a nasty hobby for playing pranks on people snd subconsciously enjoys pissing people off.
  
  Secretly, she has a fascination with art, and will often doodle if she has the materials, though she isn't any good.
  
  What do you want to be when you grow up? "I dunno uh... just what I do now, I guess. Just better."
  
  
• 「 HISTORY 」

  
  The only thing Felicia can really remember is a liofe spent on the streets, spent most of her time on the streets, stealing for a living and spending long nights huddled in nooks against the harsh city. She lived life as a fugitive and a criminal, each day she acted with thought of only herself and her enjoyment. Felicia found White Rabbit Orphanage bleeding and tired. She pickpocketed the wrong person, and he had a knife pulled on her, and was forced into the woods after the ensuing fight. She ran a long way, and when she stopped, fearful and entirely lost, she found herself in front of the Orphanage.
  
  
  
• 「POWERS」

  
  
  POWER 1- Shadow Walker
  Description: Felicia has a natural camoflauge when in dark, shadowy areas. She is nearly invisible to the naked eye. Felicia can also move silently naturally and moves faster while within the shadow.
  Limit: This power only works when Felicia is within the shadow, and is effectively useless if someone has the ability to detect her or if there is nowhere to hide.
  POWER 2- Blessed Bloodline
  Description: Felicia comes from a family with high magical ability, and has inherited such abilities without her knowing. Her powers are raw and uncontrolled, and all she is really only able to emit large bursts of flame from her body.
  Limit: Felicia can only use this ability in high stress situations, and while she does have the ability to summon fire, she is not fire immune or even fire resistant. Additionally, she has no idea she even has this type of ability.
  TALENT 1: Scrappy
  Description: Felicias stubborn resiliance and craftiness makes the girl rather adept at combat, with an aptitude for fighting dirty and using her suuroundings to aid her.
  
  
  

\\\\/\

///\/\\

///\/\

coded by solarsaphia.

 

[Peckinou]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Powers
• History
• Themes
• Notes

• 
  Name:
  Vye Notre
  
  Nickname:
  Flower
  Violet
  
  One word to describe them:
  Creative
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?:
  Orphan
  
  What kind?:
  Spoiled
  
  Selcouth:
  Awakened
  
  Age:
  15
  
  
• 
  FC:
  
  Height: 5'5
  Weight: 109
  
• 
  Personality Traits:
  + Suave
  + Outgoing
  + Creative
  + Fun-Loving
  + Humorous
  + Playful
  + Shrewd
  
  = Artful
  = Deceptive
  = Sarcastic
  = Outspoken
  = Progressive
  = Whimsical
  = Proud
  = Calculating
  = Curious
  
  - Messy
  - Sadistic
  - Selfish
  - Arrogant
  - Sly
  - Crazy
  - Narcissistic
  
  Hobbies:
  Singing
  Dancing
  Arts and Craft.
  Playing Music (Knows how to play just about every instrument.)
  
  
• 
  Powers:
  Passive - Voice Mimicry - They can mimic the voice of anyone or anything, they can also speak in any pitch or tone weather that is an extremely low pitch or a very high pitch.
  Passive - Enchanting Voice - Their voice is enchanting to listen to, being able to bring about somewhat influence the emotional state of others, though it depends on their own state of mind as well it can range from being calming to being able to induce fear into others.
  Active - Sonic Wave Generation - They can generate and project sound waves, with the power to repulse others or cause internal and external damage, dependent on how much power they put into it.
  Limits:
  Mimicking different voices can put a bit of strain on their throat so doing it constantly in a fast amount of time isn't really that good of a idea without having a cup of water close by to help them.
  Their enchanting voice only influences peoples emotions a little, and their effects can sometimes be unpredictable from what they originally wanted, plus it does not influence that state of mind of people and those with strong wills can be more resistant towards it's effects.
  Sonic Waves - Their Sound waves bounce off of most surfaces, unless they are capable of muffling and absorbing the vibrations in the air.
  
  
• 
  Backstory: During Vyes first few years within the orphanage they were noted to be quite a nuisance to the Blushings and Candys of the house. Always causing trouble and rarely following the rules. As they got older and went on to kill their first Harvest orphan, their personality shifted a bit and they became reclusive for a few days. When they finally recovered their personality took a dark turn, and they became way more sociopathic and arrogant. They eventually even joined up with two other spoiled and formed a mean girls crew of some sorts. But the crew disbanded after a few years, and majority of the members of it soon disappeared except for Vye. Vyes personality shifted again after that and they began to cut their hair short while they personally became more understanding and empathatic. Though they were still willing to pull out their old ways if they had to, but they mostly preferred to play nice with other kids finding it to be better to have a ton of friends rather than a ton of enemies.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up?
  Pop Star or Artist.
  
• 
  
  Theme:
  
  
  
  
• 
  - Is a sucker for praise
  "Why i know I'm perfect in every way, and i am sure glad you took note of my flawlessness."
  - Keeps their darker half secret, most of the time. Occasionally their darker side will slip out, though it usually quickly returns to their more cheerful self.
  "Heh, it's best not to get on my bad side, because i would thoroughly enjoy breaking every bone in your body if you did.... But you wouldn't do that cause we are like, the best of friends RIIIIGHT?"
  - Likes to put on shows, and sees themselves as a Villain that needs a good Rival, though this side is mostly shown when they are either playing games with other kids making it not seem so serious or they are preparing to kill a fellow orphan.
  "Alright, this is it, the final showdown, good vs evil, come on, give me all you got HERO!"
  

 

[TheTaleTellers]

Name:
Sara


One word to describe them:
Motherly


Orphan or Housekeeper?:
Orphan

What kind?:
Selcouth

If Selcouth/Spoiled: Awakened or Unawakened?
Unawakened

Age:
14

FC(Only art based FC please):

Personality Traits:

+Outgoing
+Kind
+Caring
+Gentle
+Clever
+Clean
+Protective

~Skeptikal
~Curious
~Predictable
~Neutral
~Emotional
~Stubborn
~Stern

-Easily angered
-Inpatient
-Dishonest
-Mysterious
-Bossy
-Arrogant
-Antsy

*Emmi is known as the mother in almost all of the groups she is in

Hobbies:
Collecting dirt
Tending to plants
Walking
Drawing



Powers:
Can make plants grow but not without draining lots of her energy if it a large plant (Flower and grass naturally grow at her feet but go away once she walks away)



Limits:
She can only make one large plants grow a day (Ex. Large vines and trees)


Backstory:
Emmi feels as though she has always lived in the orphanage but she has a few memories of the past most of which have to do with her and a greenhouse that led to the orphanage and hands that picked her up and brought her there. When she first moved into the orphanage she was 4 and lots of older orphans tried to comfort her but she pushed them away so it surprised people when she started to comfort the other orphans when they were down. She has been at the orphanage for 10 years now and has not killed anyone because she finds it morally wrong and disrespectful.


What do they want to be when they grow up?:
a vet or a nurse.​

 

[TheTaleTellers]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Powers
• History
• Themes
• Notes

• 
  Name:
  Vye Notre
  
  Nickname:
  Flower
  Violet
  
  One word to describe them:
  Creative
  
  Orphan or Housekeeper?:
  Orphan
  
  What kind?:
  Spoiled
  
  Selcouth:
  Awakened
  
  Age:
  15
  
  
• 
  FC:
  View attachment 847975
  Height: 5'5
  Weight: 109
  
• 
  Personality Traits:
  + Suave
  + Outgoing
  + Creative
  + Fun-Loving
  + Humorous
  + Playful
  + Shrewd
  
  = Artful
  = Deceptive
  = Sarcastic
  = Outspoken
  = Progressive
  = Whimsical
  = Proud
  = Calculating
  = Curious
  
  - Messy
  - Sadistic
  - Selfish
  - Arrogant
  - Sly
  - Crazy
  - Dishonest
  - Narcissistic
  
  Hobbies:
  Singing
  Dancing
  Drawing
  Playing Music (Knows how to play just about every instrument.)
  
  
• 
  Powers:
  Passive - Voice Mimicry - They can mimic the voice of anyone or anything, they can also speak in any pitch or tone weather that is an extremely low pitch or a very high pitch.
  Passive - Enchanting Voice - Their voice is enchanting to listen to, being able to bring about somewhat influence the emotional state of others, though it depends on their own state of mind as well it can range from being calming to being able to induce fear into others.
  Active - Sonic Wave Generation - They can generate and project sound waves, with the power to repulse others or cause internal and external damage, dependent on how much power they put into it.
  Limits:
  Mimicking different voices can put a bit of strain on their throat so doing it constantly in a fast amount of time isn't really that good of a idea without having a cup of water close by to help them.
  Their enchanting voice only influences peoples emotions a little, and they effects can sometimes be unpredictable from what they originally wanted, plus it does not influence that state of mind of people and those with strong wills can be more resistant towards it's effects.
  Sonic Waves - Their Sound waves bounce off of most surfaces, unless they are capable of muffling and absorbing the vibrations in the air.
  
  
• 
  Backstory: Vye has been living at the orphanage for as long as they could remember, they constantly suppressed their dark nature and made a lot of friends at the orphanage at first cause of their charismatic personality. Later on after more and more kids disappeared, she started to grow suspicious of the activities happening in the orphanage, and later on the ended up killing their first harvested orphan. At first they felt bad, mainly cause they didn't want to get in trouble, but after discovering that they were able to get away with it, they started to do it more and more in secret. But after a while they got bored and started to focus more on making sure they were having as much fun as possible, occasionally they would clash with some of the staff on getting what they want. But they mostly went on to try to make themselves as a fun loving sisterly figure to most of the other orphans, while being somewhat of a nuisance to the staff.
  
  What do they want to be when they grow up?
  Pop Star or Artist.
  
• 
  
  Theme:
  
  
  
  
• 
  - Is a sucker for praise
  "Why i know i'm perfect in every way, and i am sure glad you took note of my flawlessness."
  - Keeps their darker half secret, most of the time. Occasionally their darker side will slip out, though it usually quickly returns to their more cheerful self.
  "Heh, it's best not to get on my bad side, because i would thoroughly enjoy breaking every bone in your body if you did.... But you wouldn't do that cause we are like, the best of friends RIIIIGHT?"
  - Likes to put on shows, and sees themselves as a Villain that needs a good Rival, though this side is mostly shown when they are either playing games with other kids making it not seem so serious or they are preparing to kill a fellow orphan.
  "Alright, this is it, the final showdown, good vs evil, come on, give me all you got HERO!"
  

 

[Lost]

Mr. Ward, Scarlet Housekeeper​

• Basic Information
• Powers
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  Apparent Age: 50
  
  Species: N/A
  
  One word to describe them: Eccentric
  
  Hobbies:
  
  • Reading
  • 
    
  • Philosophy
  • 
    
  • Wood-carving
  • 
    
  • Fishing
  Thoughts on Job: Mr. Ward had found his job perfectly satisfying until recently (recent being subjective to an immortal). Now, however, he has begun to feel discomfort toward the rather brutal nature of the orphanage.
  
  
  
• 
  POWERS:
  
  • Active Power - Master of Make-Believe: Mr. Ward's primarily ability is quite fitting for a man of his tastes; he can create convincing illusions of anything he can recall.
  • Active Power - Mind Melder: Mr. Ward's secondary ability is rather invasive. At will, he can psychically interact with another creature's mind, either to cause damage or obtain information.
  • Passive Power - Philosopher's Stone: Though he's incredibly old, Mr. Ward's body has incredible regenerative abilities; any non-lethal wounds heal about four times faster than they would for the average person.
  LIMITS:
  
  • Master of Make-Believe: Though his power is incredibly useful, it can cause no physical damage; the illusions aren't real, after all.
  • Mind Melder: Any damage dealt by this ability is purely psychological, and can be overcome with a strong enough will.
  • Philosopher's Stone: While increased regeneration is useful, any lethal blow dealt to Mr. Ward will kill him just as well as any mortal human.
• 
  POSITIVE:
  
  • +Philosophical
  • +Perceptive
  • +Affable
  • +Intelligent
  • +Memorious
  • +Precise
  • +Insightful
  NEUTRAL:
  
  • ~Eccentric
  • ~Disorganized
  • ~Bookish
  • ~Inquisitive
  • ~Independent
  • ~Formal
  • ~Solitary
  NEGATIVE:
  
  • -Materialistic (Books!)
  • -Procrastinating
  • -Secretive
  • -Crafty
  • -Scruffy
  • -Hypocritical, in regards to morality
  • -Calculating
• 
  
  It is a common theme, among scientists, philosophers, and priests alike, that every story has a beginning. Every particle a big bang, every scripture a starting word. To these men and women, everything had to start in order to be. Significance was by virtue of birth, not in spite of it.
  
  Rarely had Mr. Ward ever disagreed with anything so thoroughly.
  
  After all, he had no beginning to speak of, no great creation story. He simply had been, was, and would be. For that was the gift of Peter’s Island; one sacrificed a beginning to stave off the end, for however long they might last. Once, a long time ago, the trade had appealed to Mr. Ward. Once, he had thought that only fools would reject such a gift.
  
  Once, he had been a fool himself.
  
  He had served the orphanage for a very long time. Long enough, in fact, that he would wager none could remember a time without him, save the Owner. And for a time, simply living had been enough. Repetition was acceptable, for that was the hallmark of a life without death, without age, without sorrow. And when existence grew too predictable for his liking, Mr. Ward would shut himself away in his quarters, consuming tome upon tome of the greatest scholarly works. None voiced issue with his reprieves; he was a Scarlet, after all, with authority second only to the Owner. Should he need a few decades’ break every century or two, who could deny him that?
  
  It was during one of these respites that Mr. Ward’s life would be changed. He remembered the moment vividly, more so than any that had come before, or any that would come after.
  
  A creature of routine, Mr. Ward had been sitting in his favorite oak rocking chair, positioned precisely five feet from his standing lamp. It just felt right to him, five feet; four feet was much too close, six too far from the light. Yes, five was best. The lamplight flickered ever-so-slightly every five seconds, a result of a light bulb he had drained just so. Five feet, five seconds – perfection. Alas, he was only on his third book when his revelation stuck, not his fifth, but one couldn’t be greedy.
  
  It was on the sixty-third page of his third book – Death in the Afternoon, by Earnest Hemmingway – that Mr. Ward discovered a quote most perplexing. “Madame,” it had started, “all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.” Death? He had thought with a frown. Why must all stories end in death? What is so revealing about something so distasteful? Mr. Ward didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Wasn’t it better to live than to die?
  
  He told himself it was, and yet that didn’t stop a most fervent disposition from overtaking him. For the first time in… well, forever, Mr. Ward left a book unfinished. Death in the Afternoon was dropped, thoughtlessly, to the right of his chair as he stood. Five steps to the bookshelf, and he pulled another novel from his collection: The Philosophy of Socrates. There was a quote in this, too, skimmed many years ago… Ah, yes! The start of page seventy-two read just as he remembered: “Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.” It was here, too! How vexing; why could none of these authors explain themselves? It was as if they held no concern for the immortal philosopher! Another sigh, another book dropped, another five steps to the bookshelf.
  
  Norwegian Wood, by Haruki Murakami: “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” Dropped.
  
  On Death, by Kahlil Gibran: “For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” Dropped.
  
  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical, by Charles Noel Douglas: “Grant but memory to us, and we can lose nothing by death.” Dropped, again!
  
  More than one thousand books lined his quarters, more than one thousand books that were so irritably reticent when it came to mortality! But Mr. Ward would not be deterred; determined, he donned his long, patchy coat and set off. For as the great Albert Einstein, a personal favorite of his, once said: “One cannot learn so well as by experiencing it oneself.”
  
  And so it was that between reprieves, Mr. Ward existed solely to trail those marked for death. No victim, Harvest, Spoiled, or Selcouth, was safe from his great inquisition! And oh, how well the inquisition went! He saw many deaths great and small, some accidental, most intentional and gruesome in execution. Mostly children, sometimes staff too ("Help me, Mr. Ward!" One Candy had cried out to him. "Terribly sorry, it's for research!" he had replied as an ambitious Blushing beat her to death). And what did he learn, by time of his next reprieve? What higher knowledge did he now possess, having been firsthand witness to the mortality of those around him?
  
  Well… nothing, really. Mr. Ward had learned nothing. The only thing his investigation had provided him was a deep, unsettling emotion completely foreign to the ancient Mr. Ward.
  
  Everything felt so wrong now. Concerned, Mr. Ward looked down to see the true cause of his discomfort; in standing to fetch another book last reprieve, his chair had moved one whole foot. Ah, that’s it! He thought with a snap. Standing, he moved his chair back to its rightful place. Five was best, after all. With a sigh of relief, he eased back into his faithful seat. All was right again.
  
  …except, for some strange reason, he still couldn’t shake this pesky feeling of utter revulsion; how annoying!
  
  It would seem that unfortunately, after innumerable years in service to the orphanage, Mr. Ward had developed a conscience.
  
  

 

[madochi]

Ashton Murphy

The delusion

• aiii
• aiii
• aiii
• aiii

• 
  
  
  

  Biography

  
  
  
  
  

  One word description: Delusional.
  
  Role: Orphan.
  
  Type: Selcouth.
  
  Status: Unawakened.
  
  Age: 14.
  
  Hair color: Burnt orange.
  
  Eye color: Emerald green.
  
  Height: 5’3”.
  
  Weight: 110 lbs.
  
  Build: Lean, slightly small for his age.
  
  Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Personality

  
  
  
  
  

  Virtues:
  ♥Devoted
  ♥Protective
  ♥Self-denying
  ♥Emotive
  ♥ Independant
  ♥ Conscientious
  ♥ Deep
  
  Neutral:
  Unconventional
  Complex
  Tempestuous
  Disingenuous
  Grim
  Withdrawn
  Boyish
  
  Vices:
  Obsessive
  Disturbed
  Contrite
  Insane
  Hysterical
  Antagonistic
  Trigger-happy
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  Hobbies

  
  
  
  
  

  ✦Isolating.
  ✦Playing games alone.
  ✦Fantasizing.
  ✦Self-deluding.
  ✦Playing make-believe.
  ✦Parkouring.
  ✦Climbing.
  ✦Exploring.
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Dream Job

  
  
  
  
  

  ➷ Athletic trainer.
  ➷ Firefighter.
  ➷ Nature Tour Guide.
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Supernatural Abilities

  
  
  
  

  Passive Power 1 - Neurosis

  
  
  
  

  Neurosis - Emits an aura of, at the least, unease, and at worst, an overwhelming sense of paranoia and despair, towards all hostiles. The effects worsen as the hostility increases, and only improve if the hostility is reduced or disappears entirely. Roughly divided into four stages.
  
  

  ‎‏Stage 1 - Aggravated. This stage occurs whenever a target is considering taking hostile action, and is the threshold for this power to begin to activate. An aura around Ashton then sparks mild discomfort to these targets.​

  ​

  Stage 2 - Aggressive. This stage occurs whenever a target harbors resolute hostile intent, regardless if acted upon or not. The discomfort grows to the point the effects are noticeable, and targets in this stage display unwillingness to stay in close proximity of Ashton and are generally disquieted (prone to fidgeting and other nervous ticks, distancing themselves from Ashton, nervous sweating, etc.).​

  ​

  Stage 3 - Active. This stage occurs whenever a target first takes hostile action against Ashton. At this stage, signs of paranoia surface within targets (i.e. targets are distrustful, unable to relax, hypervigilant) and most feel an irrational urge to stay away from Ashton due to nervousness and, in some targets, slight fear. As unnerving as it is to experience, that's all it is; an urge, which can be fought against with the proper drive.​

  ​

  Stage 4 - Absolute. This stage occurs whenever a target harbors downright murderous intent, willing to take Ashton's life at any degree. At this stage, the aura sparks temporary schizophrenic symptoms in targets. Targets become delusional, and their delusions may manifest in various ways; they may believe they're being harmed or harassed (the trees want to strangle me!), that certain gestures or signs are directed at them (the smoke must be a sign from a higher power that I'm right! the weatherman is secretly signaling me to run!), or that a major catastrophe is going to occur (a meteor is going to hit us soon!). Targets also begin to have auditory hallucinations, although the nature of them varies from target to target (most, however, hear voices. These voices tend to be quite persecutive or distrustful of the target and those around them). Other negative symptoms such as intense fear; crippling hopelessness; isolation; and repetitive, erratic movements surface, alongside a slight loss of hearing (with the exception of their auditory hallucinations) and tunnel vision. If the target is subject to the aura's intense effects for more than 15 minutes, the psychological effects of the sudden, sustained fear and paranoia may later give rise to mental afflictions all of its own.​

  
  
  
  
  

  Limits

  
  
  
  
  

  1. Short-range - The range of Ashton's aura is rather small, spanning a radius of a mere 5 feet. Anyone outside this range will not suffer any negative symptoms, allowing them to be as hostile as they please without consequence. Long-range combat will easily and effectively counter this ability.
  
  2. Automatic Activation - Given this is a passive ability, Ashton has no control over it's symptoms. For example, the third stage could trigger in something as severe as a battle, or in something as minor as somebody intentionally spilling juice on him. There may be a few instances where Ashton is not even aware that this ability is in effect, and he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to. Even if he was forgiving of a target for their actions or didn't view them as an enemy personally, that won't prevent his power from running it's defensive course.
  
  3. Specific - The hostility must be directed towards or otherwise involve Ashton in order to trigger this aura. Hostile intent or actions towards other people do not count. Accidental harm, since it wasn't performed with hostile intentions, also bypasses this ability.
  
  4. Weak to Willpower - The mood-symptoms produced by the aura (fear, depression, hopelessness, panic) can be fought back using an amount of determination that surpasses the severity of each symptom. These emotions are superficially imposed after all, and while they cannot be overcome completely, their hold on the target can be significantly reduced. Additionally, people who possess a manic defense mechanism will have an easier time combating these unsettling feelings.
  
  5. Anxiety turned Aggressive - Speaking of manic defense...individuals who respond to their anxieties with heightened aggression have an advantage in battling against this ability overall. While they may propel themselves through the stages due to their increased hostility, and thus, face more adverse consequences, they can deal with these severe effects more successfully. Their reluctance to allow their anxieties get the best of them allows them to remain on the offensive in spite of their immense fear. A barbaric, destructive, and unhealthy way to cope, but effective in this situation nonetheless.

  
  
  
  

  Passive Power 2 - Defensive Overdrive

  
  
  
  

  Defensive Overdrive - During a stress response, the output of stress hormones (adrenaline, cortisol, norepinephrine, and endorphins) is increased, as well as their effectiveness. In other words, this gives Ashton heightened pain tolerance, awareness, muscle strength, and endurance.
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Defensive Overdrive - Limits

  
  
  
  

  1. Post-exhaustion - In a normal post-stress response situation, one would be extremely tired from the immense energy expended from the effect of the hormones. Naturally, more potent hormones would result in even more exhaustion. When sustained for long periods of time, Ashton would be too exhausted in the aftermath to do anything more than walk.
  
  2. Extended Analgesia - The effect of endorphins will outlast the stress response, meaning pain won't be felt for long after the stress response ceased (10 turns). While this may sound good, it isn't. The inability to feel pain after will make it hard for Ashton to determine if he needs to seek treatment, especially if he's in shock or concussed.
  

  
  
  
  

  Active Ability - Mirror Image

  
  
  
  

  Mirror Image - Can dissever or "split" parts of his mind up, using these separated states of consciousness to run up to three autonomous clones of himself. These clones are 100% identical to Ashton in every sense, from the clothes that they all wear to the deodorant they smell of. Any objects on Ashton's person will also be duplicated for the clones to possess for the time-being, although they will disappear once their respective clone is dispelled. All clones share a collective consciousness with Ashton and operate as a hive-mind, allowing Ashton to simultaneously experience their memories as he forms his own. In other words, Ashton could essentially be in two or more places at once. If he ever needed to tune into one clone in particular, he can do so by dissociating in order to distance himself from his current reality and redirect his attention elsewhere.
  
  These clones can be unsummoned by Ashton at will, and upon being dispelled, their minds will merge back with his own. Clones also possess the same passive abilities as Ashton, as well as the same blue Selcouth glow. It's worth noting that if a person is hostile towards Ashton or any of his clones, Neurosis will be triggered by any instance of himself, even if it's not the same clone they harbor hostile feelings for. So if an individual wants to murder Ashton and runs into one of his clones, they will still suffer from Stage 4 Neurosis.
  
  An odd phenomenon also occurs when an individual witnesses the split. Strangely enough, all observers experience visible confusion when seeing a clone emerge, as they seem to not be able to distinguish between who's the original and who's the clone, and given the clones have no distinguishing features at the moment of division, it's essentially a game of chance. The nature of this is rather illogical, given that such a fact should be obvious by virtue of observing who spawned from who. It's almost as if they their memories got wiped...or perhaps more accurately, distorted.
  

  
  
  
  

  Mirror Image - Limits

  
  
  
  

  1. Who am I? - When the mind of a clone is reconnected to Ashton's mind, the events they experienced will coexist alongside Ashton's own memories. However, given human memory is autobiographical in nature, Ashton would be heavily confounded whenever he tries to recall what he was doing ...only to remember two separate events occurring simultaneously. Since his clone's mind has completely integrated back with Ashton's, he can no longer tell apart the memories of the original apart from the memories of the clone, since well...they're the same person again. Now that their minds are one and the same, he is the clone, and the clone is him...they are no longer separate entities divided by different bodies and minds.
  
  This dilemma can cause headaches the more Ashton dwells on it. After all, at first, he won't be able to even to recognize that the second pair of his memories originated from a clone of his, since he can vividly recall experiencing both events himself. It seems so real...but it wasn't him, was it?
  
  Then who was it? It was somebody else, right?
  And if that person is a part of him now...
  Who was he before? And who is he currently?
  
  These questions tend to plague Ashton's mind, sending him into an existential crisis about who he really is, and which memories belong to the "original" Ashton from his melting pot of experiences. This has potential to become straight up traumatic after a grueling battle where a lot of his clones got cut down, in which he'd later on remember himself being painfully wounded multiple times, over and over and over...unable to tell where his true memories start and his clone's suffering ends...
  
  2. Distance Bound - While his clones can travel as far from Ashton as they are able, the furthest away from him that they can initially spawn is ten feet. So his summoning range isn't that big.
  
  3. Pain Limits - His clones can be destroyed by becoming severely injured...or in other words, sustaining an injury of one of the following:
  

  • ✧ Brain injuries
  • ✧ Neck and spinal cord injuries
  • ✧ Loss, or limited use, of one or more limbs
  • ✧ Damage to internal organs
  • ✧ Permanent blindness
  • ✧ Permanent deafness
  • ✧ Severe burns

  Of course, stabbing with a good piercing weapon is usually the easiest way to achieve this. Once a clone becomes severely injured, they will poof into thin air, alongside any duplicated possessions of theirs. Miscellaneous items of interest they have on their person that weren't duplicated will clatter to the floor.
  
  4. Too Many Minds! - Speaking long-term...the more clones Ashton has active, the harder it is to focus on what he's doing at the moment. He'd become extremely dissociative, having a hard time paying attention and retaining information since his mind is currently split in so many ways. Life would be mainly a blur for him. Thus, performing complex tasks that require a lot of critical thinking or focus will be quite difficult in his state (i.e: doing homework, cooking, playing a complicated video-game or sport, delivering a speech)...and definitely wouldn't be done well. Sometimes, at his max capacity of clones, even talking can seem too overwhelming at times with all the noise in his head.
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Backstory

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  SisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisBroSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisSisBroSisSisSisSisSisSis
  
  DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED DROWNED
  
  mirror hatred sorrow bond family fight broken ideal moving pain red purple blue surface illusion forest fear twin living soul connect abuse image water
  
  all...white...in extremis...
  cannotcomprehend?
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  I.
  
  
  They remembered how they were first found.
  
  Two children traversed across the wild woods hand-in-hand, their clumsy and uncoordinated feet constantly tripping over the thick tree roots that burrowed into the earth. With every tumble they took marked another red cut on their little legs, for if one fell, down came crashing the other.
  
  Their wounds mirrored each other, both bearing the same bruises in the same places on their scrawny bodies. Yet they picked each other up and limped forward with smarting knees and scratched elbows, simply because they knew nowhere else to wander.
  
  The duo ended up stumbling in circles, their confusion leaving them constantly changing directions out of uncertainty. The scenery around them remained stagnant no matter where they turned, towering evergreens choking the horizon out of sight at every corner. Surrounded by the unfamiliar forest, the two of them wondered where their home was, or if they were too far away from it to ever return.
  
  One recalled being around the age of six, the other, no less than the age of four. The resemblance between them was quite striking, sharing the same unruly ginger locks that tickled at their shoulders and green eyes that gleamed like emerald gemstones. Yet their matching appearance was the only fact to ground them amidst a sea of surging questions. All they knew for certain was that they were siblings, although they had no clue where they got wind of that truth. Still, it was something like an indisputable reality of life, in the same way that the skies were blue and the clouds were white. It just was, and it was only natural.
  
  The dirt crunching underneath their soles soiled their white sneakers the same, their t-shirts sticky with sweat from the humidity that cloyed at their skin. What seemed like hours of aimless walking had done them no good, leaving them no closer than before from escaping the never-ending tunnels that appeared to only lure them further in. The heat beating down on the duo was dizzying in intensity and merciless in intent, inciting exhaustion from weary bones and thirst from dry throats. The siblings weren't sure how long they could last without food or water.
  
  But just as their thoughts were growing grim, they heard chattering and laughing in the distance. Two voices rose above the eerie silence that swabbed their ears, painting visions of aid and hope in the children's minds. They scrambled with fatigued footfalls towards the source of precious sound, soon spotting two adults that heard their approach, quickly taking notice of the scraped up siblings.
  
  The duo were fussed over by the couple, who appeared to be wed to each other, asking for a home address, a parent's name, a town they lived in. The children could only look at eachother solemnly and shake their heads, for they knew none of those things.
  
  But they did quickly answer when the couple asked for their names.
  
  Arabella, and Ashton.
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  II.
  
  
  Poverty.
  
  Barely enough space for the family of four.
  
  The strangers had taken them in as their own, yet they didn't have much to provide.
  
  The children didn't mind. So long as they had a warm bed under a loving roof, they were alright with retiring at night with unsated stomachs. The couple was kind and humble, and their affection dulled their hunger, imbuing the siblings’ hearts with contentment and stability. They felt like they belonged in the rustic town of Brumberlocke, quickly becoming acquainted with the other kids of the village.
  
  They drank in the listless days like clockwork; eating vanilla ice cream under the melting sky and leaping into piles of ruby red leaves; hoarding carrots, buttons, and scarfs to make snowmen and riding bikes along the trails lined with blooming flowers. They held races and took risks and rejoiced over meaningless triumphs, and their hollow laughter and vain laments were quickly forgotten by the dawn of tomorrow. The worlds they wove were destined to be short-lived and bittersweet, scattered to the wind to be reconstructed by the new seasons all over again. Each summer renewed the vow to live fastly and freely, swimming in the frivolity of fleeting youth and happily-ever-afters. They charged forward with careless abandon through the dayless months, brave because they knew all would be forgotten when the next year would roll around again; faithfully, unerringly, predictably.
  
  They were Year-long Lionhearted.
  
  They childishly thought it would last forever, those delectable days so sweet on the tongue. Alas, they failed to notice the funds dwindling more and more with each passing year, the furniture in their house growing scarcer and scarcer, the late-night arguments about money when the children fell asleep.
  
  When the siblings packed their tiny bags that fateful afternoon, they did not want to leave from Brumberlocke. Looking up at the forlorn, yet doting faces that were sending them away, their hearts broke as the security they came to cherish was being ripped from under their feet. They looked at each other and cast their eyes to the floor in understanding, walking down the road in resignation to step into the car of their more well-off aunt and uncle.
  
  The younger coughed at the scent of cigarette smoke.
  
  As they were driven away, they pressed their faces to the backseat windows, anxiously watching their treasured childhood grow tinier and tinier in the distance.
  
  Where was the Year-long Lionhearted soul that sought the wind?
  
  In the stuffy car with stale air that tasted like drops of poison, they could not find it.
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  III.
  
  
  

  Major Trigger Warning: From here onward, there will be descriptions of Child Abuse, Character Death, and implications of Neglect.
  Do not scroll further if you are triggered by such topics.​

  
  * inline spoilers unfortunately do not work with this code, so if you're fine with death but wish to skip over the rest, you can read the rest of the backstory in this google doc and avoid the potentially triggering content! You're looking for Part IV
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  This can't be happening
  

  they wouldn't do this to us​

  it's not real​

  it's not real​

  ​

  oh no​

  it's real he's angry at me​

  i don't understand no no no no no no​

  
  What should I do? I can't fight him he's taller and stronger and oh god I'm gonna die
  his eyes they hate me I see nothing but spite
  
  please don't hurt me i can't hide the bruises at school again
  

  they make us wear skirts and the socks are short and oh god they'll see they'll all see​

  ​

  what would I say? Would they believe me if i said I fell?​

  ​

  they could tell so please don't kill me​

  ​

  ​

  PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I'M SORRY I'M SO SORRY STOP STOP PLEASE PLEASE​

  ​

  DON'T PULL ON MY HAIR MY HEAD HURTS PLEASE STOP​

  ​

  WE'RE SORRY​

  ​

  WE WERE HUNGRY AND IT HURT​

  ​

  Ihaven'teatenatallyesterdaytherewasfoodinthefridgeyoucan'tgroundusfromdinneragainforsomethingthatisn'tourfaultitwasn'tourfault​

  ​

  I can't speak
  my throat is so tight
  

  what will i say tomorrow?​

  this floor is uncomfortable​

  ​

  please don't ruin this dress mom got it for me no no NO DON'T RIP IT​

  ​

  God help me. God save me.
  This is a nightmare, why are you doing this to me it hurts
  
  there's no one,
  i can't do anything and ashton is bleeding and this is hopeless
  
  will he make me bleed too?
  does he want us to match
  Ashton didn't do anything wrong
  it was my idea I swear please God help him
  

  I don't think he's okay​

  i don't want this
  i don't want this
  i don't want this
  
  

  my eyes hurt​

  i don't know if i hate fists more or less than​

  ​

  i can never tell anybody
  what would everyone at school say? they'd all be bragging
  about how good their weekends were
  how do i lie about mine?
  
  i can't say
  this man isn't my uncle
  that he's the murderer of my soul
  uncles don't hit their kids right?
  
  

  Did I really do something wrong?​

  
  

  wait hold on please stop STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP​

  
  
  
  
  MY ARM MY ARM THE PAIN THE PAIN
  
  ITS PAINFUL I CAN'T TAKE IT
  
  
  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
  
  
  
  

  MY SHOULDER IT'S​

  ​

  ​

  NOT SUPPOSED TO POP OUT OF PLACE​

  
  
  
  

  I CAN'T MOVE MY ARM AH AH AH AH​

  ​

  ​

  ASHTON HELP ME​

  ​

  ​

  ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON ASHTON I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY
  
  NO NOOOOOOOO
  GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP
  RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN
  OR HE'LL MAKE US MATCH
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  IV.
  
  
  They couldn’t take the hand dealt to them in their new house that was all but home, covering up their unmet needs in public with painted, plastic smiles.
  They couldn’t take cowering in the presence of their uncle, who brandished a belt or his ringed fists in the name of cruel, relentless “discipline”.
  They couldn’t take standing under the scrutiny of their aunt, who only sneered at them as if she didn’t want them here, telling them to be “grateful” in spite of their various woes..
  They couldn’t take the nights shivering outside in the cold whenever they failed to meet an absurd expectation, left to the mercy of the weather and the creatures lurking in the dark.
  They couldn’t take going the entire day hungry because meals were withheld from them.
  
  They couldn’t take being unloved.
  They couldn’t take being hurt.
  They couldn’t take being trampled underfoot, slowly wilting under the cruel pressure from their caregivers that despised them so.
  
  Six long and grueling years after arriving in the city of Brismond, the children had enough and took flight at sunrise, not willing to submit to yet another beating should they remain complacent. Their departure was hurried and made on a whim, carrying only a few of their most precious belongings along them in a drawstring bag. They hoped to hit the road and head back to Brumberlocke, then beg their parents to take them back. Tell them that anything they could spare them was better than suffering at the hands of their sinister relatives. The marks that had marred their skin black and blue would surely convince them.
  
  And against the odds, they did arrive rather quickly. The siblings traveled by bus to Brumberlocke, and after several hours of strategic planning, waiting and riding, they found themselves back in their old neighborhood. Their past city wasn’t too far away in the first place.
  
  With the new address of their parents in a townhouse, the familiar streets they used to wander as kids carried them to their front doorstep. But when their parents opened the door…
  
  The siblings would never forget the pale look they had on their faces. Their hearts sunk further and further as their parents began to scold them about running away from their poor relatives, ordering them to go back to their “home” in rushed tones.
  
  The duo tried to speak about what their uncle and aunt had done to them, but their parents quickly cut in with their foreheads crinkled in stress. They said that their aunt and uncle were the only people willing to take them in, and that they truly had no other alternative than casting them out into the street. That they needed to be financially stable before they could welcome the children back into their lives. Through pleading words and exasperated tears, their prayers for safety were returned with implorations to go back. That it was the only place where they could get a good education and free room. That they needed to look at the positives.
  
  The cold rejection stilled the siblings, rendering them speechless at how their own parents were telling them to return to a knowingly violent environment.
  They couldn’t speak.
  They weren’t prepared to justify the suffering they’ve gone through.
  They had expected their parents to understand the words that went unsaid, that they’d be able to empathize with their anguished expressions and malnourished appearance. Out of anybody in their lives, they had expected their parents to leap to their defense the easiest. The parents who had showered them in love and care for so, so long…
  
  The very same fear of being punished if they elaborated on their pain paralyzed them, catching them off guard in a place where they thought they were the safest. Where they felt the most protected.
  Yet...the adults who they felt safest around,,,couldn’t save them.
  
  They never felt more alone than in that moment, trembling on the porch with the icy wind whipping against their cheeks.
  
  And so they turned away, leaving the townhouse behind dejected and torn.
  
  They were truly on their own.
  
  God had abandoned them.
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  V.
  
  
  
  

  "..."
  
  

  "What do we do now, brother?"
  ​

  "I don't know."
  
  

  “Well, I think that we shouldn’t be walking around like this without a plan--! We only have so much energy and so much food bef-”​

  
  “We have no other choice.”
  
  

  “...Huh?”​

  
  “Neither of us are old enough for a job, so we can’t get our own income. No money means no food, water, shelter...at least out here, we have two out of the three to start with.”
  
  

  “Are you nuts?! We can’t live out here, we’d get eaten alive! Haven’t you learned anything from the nursery rhymes ‘bout this wood? It’s dangerous-- who knows what creepy crawlies are running ‘round!”​

  
  “It’s a necessary risk.”
  
  

  “You’ve gotta be kidding...what if you get hurt? What if I get hurt?!”​

  
  “It’s nothing we haven’t experienced before. We’d live.”
  
  

  “At least we had Advil at home! Christ, if you had this planned for us, why didn’t you bring along some painkillers?!:​

  
  “I didn’t have this planned.”
  
  

  “Exactly! We’re not prepared in the slightest to survive out here!! I don’t suppose you brought any thingamabobs to start fires, or to hunt squirrels and whatnot, or to set up a camp?!”​

  
  “I have the blade, that’s already a good start. If that’s not enough, whittling down thick twigs into sharp spears could work...”
  
  

  “This is crazy-- I-I don’t think we can live like this!”​

  
  “We can find a way. Have some faith.”
  
  

  “But what happens if we can’t find a way?! Nobody is coming for us! We’d be TOAST!”​

  
  “We just don’t accept failure as an option, then. There’s nothing else we can do...we’d starve in the streets, begging in the city.
  No matter how you look at it, we’re in the same situation regardless of our environment…
  homeless.”
  
  

  “But I’m scared-- what about all the monster attacks? Those same monsters come from this forest-- please, let’s go!”​

  
  “And go where, exactly?!”
  
  

  “Somewhere else!”​

  
  “We’d DIE in the city!”
  
  

  “Then I...I...
  I wish we never left Brismond…”​

  
  “...What?”
  
  

  “I said,
  I wish we never left Brismond!”​

  
  “...Did you forget what they did to us?”
  
  

  “But I-- AH, AAAAH! STOPSTOPSTOP--”​

  
  “This hasn’t healed yet, has it?”
  

  
  “...”​

  
  “It’s been two months, you know.”
  
  

  “It’s...not like it’s going to heal now, either…”​

  
  “But at least you can’t be hurt by another person ever again.”
  
  
  

  “But...we still had everything! I-it was painful, and hard, but we could still live!”​

  
  
  “...Are you…
  Siding with them now?”
  
  

  “We could still...play...pretend…”​

  
  “Aren’t you SICK of the mask you had to wear for all this time?! That you had to disguise your wounds because it would “inconvenience” others?!”
  
  

  “But it wasn’t...that bad…
  we’re still...here…”​

  
  “It wasn’t that bad?
  WHAT HE DID TO MY NECK WASN'T THAT BAD?!’”
  

  
  “Brother--!”​

  
  “WHAT SHE TOLD THE DOCTOR WHEN YOU ARRIVED TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM WASN’T THAT BAD?!”
  
  
  

  “BUT WE SURVIVED, AND WE HAD THE TOOLS TO CARE FOR OURSELVES WHEN WE GOT HURT--!”​

  
  
  “THAT WE HAD TO SNEAK AROUND TO GET IN THE FIRST PLACE!
  THEY DON’T CARE FOR YOU!”
  
  
  

  “BUT AT LEAST WE’RE LIVING SOMEWHERE WHERE NOBODY CAN EASILY KILL US!”​

  
  
  “CAN YOU REALLY CALL THAT ‘LIVING’?!
  YOU’RE BETTER OFF ON OUR OWN!”
  
  
  

  “BUT I CAN’T LIVE ON MY OWN!”​

  
  
  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ‘CAN’T’?!”
  
  
  

  “BECAUSE…!”​

  
  
  Two siblings got in a fight in the woods.
  But things didn’t go as they thought they would.
  Spindly white fingers rose from a pond
  To a horrible monster, no doubt they belonged.
  
  The ruckus afar had alerted it’s senses
  Caused it to awaken on the offensive
  It’s syringe-like digits, silent and sly
  Darted to pierce through the taller one’s thigh
  
  Crying out in pain, the target collapsed
  Immobilized, the monster had them trapped
  
  The smaller one screamed in alarm
  But quickly acted in order to disarm
  
  While the taller was dragged across the grass
  They snapped off a branch and began to attack
  
  Yet the albino horror would not release it’s hold
  Set on it’s dinner, it did not fold
  
  Into the water, it’s victim was yanked
  After him the other dove, aiming to shank
  Yet the small one underwater was terrified by what they saw
  A fiendish beast with beady eyes and a ginormous, gaping maw
  
  In terror, they began to blindly whack
  Their sibling would not die as this beast’s snack!
  
  The smaller shoved their twig down the monstrosity’s throat
  Sputtering and seizing, the titan began to choke
  
  Seizing the opportunity to grab their kin
  They hauled them out of the water with strength within
  
  Not wasting time, the small one towed them away
  As quick as they could so they’re not caught as prey
  
  But as they heaved their sibling uphill
  They noted that they were oddly still
  
  Pausing to place a head on their chest,
  On the little one’s face alighted a grieving frown
  For there was no heartbeat, nor a single breath,
  Meaning that their beloved sibling had drowned.
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  VI.
  
  
  A young Blushing hiked through the overgrowth, pushing branches aside to clear his intended path. With a sigh, he brushed his curly brown locks out of his sight, his dark eyes scanning the forest floor. Had one of the orphans really gone this far to drop their sock monkey….? The further he marched, the more he felt like this was just some prank the kids had pulled on him so they could get away with being unsupervised….
  
  He facepalmed himself with a gloved hand, already tired of dealing with these giggling devils. it had only been a week since he’s been on the job, and he was already being played for a fool.
  
  He wondered if he should go back...until he caught a glimpse of a person far in the distance.
  
  Narrowing his eyes as he suspected it to be a mischievous kid that had decided to ditch school time, his strides carried him over towards the figure, determined to give the rat a good lecturing.
  
  “HEY! Just what do you think you’re doing?!”
  
  But they didn’t react how he expected them to at all, flinching so hard that they slammed against the tree behind them. Their hand immediately flew to their chest as their head snapped towards him, quaking as if expecting the worst.
  
  ‘Well, that certainly startled them,’ he thought.
  
  The oddities didn’t end there. Upon getting closer, he was able to survey the kid’s ginger hair tied back into a ponytail...a teenage boy with green eyes; somebody he had never seen before. It took a bit for him to piece two and two together, the realization striking him once he caught wind of the lad’s bloodied to hell clothing.
  
  Oh, fuck.
  
  This kid wasn’t one of the rugrats at the orphanage.
  
  They were one of the kids of Peter's Island that lost themselves in the forest. It seemed to be a popular spot for parents to abandon their kids...
  
  But this kid was bleeding-- shit, what had happened to him?! Did one of the beasts get to him first?
  
  Stopping a few feet from the poor boy (the closer he got, the more the other shrinked away), he got a good look at him...a bit on the short side. Likely around twelve or so…?
  
  "Hold on...you're not from the White Rabbit Home, are ya? What's your name, kid?"
  
  The boy just looked at him with fearful eyes, remaining silent.
  
  "...Okaaaay, better question. Are you lost?"
  
  ...A curt, reluctant nod.
  
  "Do you remember if you have a family?"
  
  The kid remained silent and still, so he assumed that was a no.
  
  "Do you remember a phone number or address? Any contact information?"
  
  No reaction after a minute, so another no.
  
  "No names of anybody in your life either? Do you not remember your own name t-"
  
  "A-Ashton."
  
  "Huh? That your name; kid?
  
  A pause, and he nodded.
  
  "Last name?" Not like it mattered...the chances of them being able to track down their actual family were close to none anyway.
  
  "...Murphy."
  
  "Okay, Ashton, you're gonna be fine with me. There's an orphanage right down this path, aight? I work there. We'll get you registered and patch you up, just follow me."
  
  Indecision flashed in the boy's emerald eyes, as if debating whether or not to follow. After a few seconds of internal debate, Ashton cautiously walked to the male blushing's side.
  
  The blushing gave the kid a wry grin and began to lead him back on the trail towards the Orphanage. He started towards a tall hill with jagged rocks jutting out unevenly,
  
  "Well, the name's Cody. Don't wear it out, though.
  Watch your step, on this mound you don’t want to fall.
  Anyway, tell me more about yourself, Ashton.”
  
  “Um..
  ...I’m 14…
  And I went to middle school…”
  
  “Don’t remember the name of it now, do you?”
  
  Ashton didn’t reply. He knew the drill by now.
  
  “Are you hurt?"
  
  "No."
  
  "Eh? You're not lying? What's up with the blood?"
  
  Silence.
  
  "There's no need to hide anything, it'll cost you nothing to fix up those injuries."
  
  "…"
  
  Cody shot Ashton a glance over his shoulder.
  
  "They're gonna perform a physical examination on you if you don't tell me here, so you mi--"
  
  "It's not mine." Ashton cut in, distress seeping into his voice.
  
  So...who's blood is it, then?"
  
  At that question, Ashton suddenly froze in his tracks, hugging himself tightly.
  
  "...Somebody else's."
  
  Noting the boy behind him had stopped following him, Cody turned on his heel and raised an eyebrow. But Ashton wasn’t looking back. His gaze was focused on the floor and his bangs fell over his eyes, making it hard to read his expression.
  
  "No shit. I'm asking for a who though."
  
  "...A girl's."
  
  "What?" he commented incredulously. "Who exactly is this girl, and how did her blood get on your clothes?"
  
  "I… she…
  My sister…
  
  …"
  
  He didn't continue on after that, but he sounded...confused.
  
  "So you do have a family? Alright, what’s your sister’s name?”
  
  “Ara..bella…”
  
  “And was she with you in this forest?”
  
  “Y-yes…”
  
  “What happened to Arabella, Ashton?”
  
  “...What happened to… my sister…?”
  
  Ashton’s head lifted to meet Cody’s stare, but his eyes were a million miles away.
  
  “My sister…
  
  She….
  
  ...Ah….
  
  
  
  
  
  ...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGH!!!
  
  SHE’S DEAD
  
  
  MY SISTER’S D E A D
  
  
  HOW?!
  
  WHY?!
  AND IT’S ALL MY FAULT
  
  IT’S MY FAULT
  MY SISTER--!!!
  
  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
  
  
  “WOAH KID, CALM DOWN!”
  
  THE BLOOD
  
  IT ‘S SPILLING OUT
  
  
  The Blushing grabbed Ashton’s shoulder to try to get through to him, but it was the biggest mistake he made in his week-long existence.
  
  
  
  “ASHTON--”
  
  “AAAAAAAAAAGH!
  
  NO!
  

  NO!​

  
  

  DON’T TOUCH ME!!!”​

  
  Violently jerking his shoulder out of Cody’s hold, the boy shoved the Blushing back with a surprising amount of force.
  
  Stumbling backward, Cody’s heel hit one of the boulders lodged into the hill with a cry. Causing him to tip over. His head mercilessly slammed into the firm ground., sending the servant rolling down the steep slope, his body smashing powerfully against the protruding rocks.
  
  Ashton stood there, not fully realizing what he just did until the Blushing had rolled all the way down. Peering over the scarp, he saw Cody’s limp body…
  
  Motionless. There was something red pooling out from under him...
  
  He didn’t know how long he stood there, his heart hammering in his chest, before he tried to call out his name that he barely remembered.
  
  “...Cody?”
  
  Silence.
  
  
  “..”
  
  
  IT’S ALL MY FAULT.
  

  
  
  

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