Dec 11, 2018 2:04:32 GMT -6
Post by Salem Morrigan on Dec 11, 2018 2:04:32 GMT -6
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[attr="class","hopelovename"] [attr="class","hopelovename2"] SALEM MORRIGAN [attr="class","meow"] [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]GENDER: Female [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]AGE: 18 [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]SCHOOL YEAR: Junior [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]DORM: Sage [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]SIGN: Sagittarius [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]SPECIES: Chaos Witch x Succubus [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]SEXUALITY: Homosexual [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]FACE CLAIM: KDA Evelynn |
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]APPEARANCE
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
[break][break]
Molten. Igneous. Burnished. Rippling flesh cascades across pearl orchard of feminine skeleton, matriarchal curvaceous glory toned in taut muscle. Bodice is shapely, a uncoiling assessment of elegant poise, Elongated legs built like stone. A sumptuous face of sculpted bone, her nose a slender invasion of sensory ecstasy and tipped in pure, tarnished gold. Fiendish succubi; Flesh will curl, with salacious intent, broken and seething invitation to taste the rancid bouquet. She is dusted whilst animalistic in the hues of faint smoke and white clouds; donning human flesh she gorges with decadence.
[break][break]
A rich slather of bejeweled silks, oft dark plum and rich scarlet, the colors of maturity, of passion. The gorgeousness! Eyes caustic, galvanized in vibrant gold. An obsidian river flowing from her hinds sculpted of ravishing stone. Mantled in sin, a banquet of succulent pulp; A surplus of toxic red tide. Malignant stare bespeaks gold reverence, demands the eyes of others to gaze upon each writhing mound of sumptuous plasm which roves across a tender, hallowed scaffolding.
[break][break]
She will be watched, observed, many times deemed a pivotal object of obsession. And yet she moves effortlessly through each plane of her reality, her intrinsic temptations only offering their caress the truest, most palpable appraisal.
[break][break]
Molten. Igneous. Burnished. Rippling flesh cascades across pearl orchard of feminine skeleton, matriarchal curvaceous glory toned in taut muscle. Bodice is shapely, a uncoiling assessment of elegant poise, Elongated legs built like stone. A sumptuous face of sculpted bone, her nose a slender invasion of sensory ecstasy and tipped in pure, tarnished gold. Fiendish succubi; Flesh will curl, with salacious intent, broken and seething invitation to taste the rancid bouquet. She is dusted whilst animalistic in the hues of faint smoke and white clouds; donning human flesh she gorges with decadence.
[break][break]
A rich slather of bejeweled silks, oft dark plum and rich scarlet, the colors of maturity, of passion. The gorgeousness! Eyes caustic, galvanized in vibrant gold. An obsidian river flowing from her hinds sculpted of ravishing stone. Mantled in sin, a banquet of succulent pulp; A surplus of toxic red tide. Malignant stare bespeaks gold reverence, demands the eyes of others to gaze upon each writhing mound of sumptuous plasm which roves across a tender, hallowed scaffolding.
[break][break]
She will be watched, observed, many times deemed a pivotal object of obsession. And yet she moves effortlessly through each plane of her reality, her intrinsic temptations only offering their caress the truest, most palpable appraisal.
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]PERSONALITY
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
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Beautiful, ghoulish seamstress; She wafts in the gossamer threads of wordless allure, whilst stitching each meticulous furrow of a masque which divinely enshrouds the tempestuous belly of the beast. Immaculate craftswoman; An artist of a floating world untouched by time and marred none by the ebbing flow of ceaseless change. Deeply ingrained are her coveted traditions, ancient and opulent rituals whose eerie paragon is forever steeled, and willingly clandestine to protect each aspect of her lore from prying eyes and eager lips. Stellar graces enchant with vision and vibe alone, whilst her infinite supply of coiling charisma forces ones mind to yearn in delving deeper. She is the queen bee at the center of the hive, whose honeyed nectar is surrounded by the venomous stings of ten thousand barbs; To reach her bounty is to brave the poison embedded within her very plasma, cells and atoms enriched to the core with a celestial ambrosia that is as toxic as it is mesmeric.
[break][break]
And yet by the time one merely roves her tranquil surface, they need not fret; she is refined, fragrant, soft, and exquisite like the petals of the lotus. Maternal, doting, a wholesomely willing counsel, but impenetrable as the rare golden jade. Lain are the bedding of demons in the portion of her soul that remains unhinged in the darkness of decaying yin, and both hungry, and cunning is their discipline.
[break][break]
What was once silken and sweet morphs into the withered flesh of vengeful death, but in rightful sapience she keeps these dark forces at bay, letting them rot beneath the exoticism that is her impeccable semblance. Sleep in the profundity of solitude be her your ever loyal ally – your maiden savior when times are ever grim, or be haunted by her shadow of plotting your ultimate downfall. An angel of art and pleasure of the bath house; An oily serpent beneath the veil of betrayal. The elusively fickle silver dart, whose piercing tip doth coated in the ebony ink of silent affliction.
[break][break]
But alas there is a passion burning in her heart...the thirst to breathe fire into the world...to ignite the night and set fire to rain. To melt the cold, give life into the downtrodden...for her fire shines bright like the sun itself. Honey dipped hues focus their sight upon the golden paved road...to let her voice be heard by millions...to sing and enchant hearts. Art is her passion...for she herself is art in motion. She hungers for fame, dreams of glory and gold. Treasure buried deep within her cove...the riches she has accumulated. Greed taints her golden heart, possessive over her toys~
[break][break]
Beautiful, ghoulish seamstress; She wafts in the gossamer threads of wordless allure, whilst stitching each meticulous furrow of a masque which divinely enshrouds the tempestuous belly of the beast. Immaculate craftswoman; An artist of a floating world untouched by time and marred none by the ebbing flow of ceaseless change. Deeply ingrained are her coveted traditions, ancient and opulent rituals whose eerie paragon is forever steeled, and willingly clandestine to protect each aspect of her lore from prying eyes and eager lips. Stellar graces enchant with vision and vibe alone, whilst her infinite supply of coiling charisma forces ones mind to yearn in delving deeper. She is the queen bee at the center of the hive, whose honeyed nectar is surrounded by the venomous stings of ten thousand barbs; To reach her bounty is to brave the poison embedded within her very plasma, cells and atoms enriched to the core with a celestial ambrosia that is as toxic as it is mesmeric.
[break][break]
And yet by the time one merely roves her tranquil surface, they need not fret; she is refined, fragrant, soft, and exquisite like the petals of the lotus. Maternal, doting, a wholesomely willing counsel, but impenetrable as the rare golden jade. Lain are the bedding of demons in the portion of her soul that remains unhinged in the darkness of decaying yin, and both hungry, and cunning is their discipline.
[break][break]
What was once silken and sweet morphs into the withered flesh of vengeful death, but in rightful sapience she keeps these dark forces at bay, letting them rot beneath the exoticism that is her impeccable semblance. Sleep in the profundity of solitude be her your ever loyal ally – your maiden savior when times are ever grim, or be haunted by her shadow of plotting your ultimate downfall. An angel of art and pleasure of the bath house; An oily serpent beneath the veil of betrayal. The elusively fickle silver dart, whose piercing tip doth coated in the ebony ink of silent affliction.
[break][break]
But alas there is a passion burning in her heart...the thirst to breathe fire into the world...to ignite the night and set fire to rain. To melt the cold, give life into the downtrodden...for her fire shines bright like the sun itself. Honey dipped hues focus their sight upon the golden paved road...to let her voice be heard by millions...to sing and enchant hearts. Art is her passion...for she herself is art in motion. She hungers for fame, dreams of glory and gold. Treasure buried deep within her cove...the riches she has accumulated. Greed taints her golden heart, possessive over her toys~
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]HISTORY
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
Children are casualties of war, that is to be commonly accepted; whether through their innocence, life or other means, do they suffer. Some however are dealt an unlucky, bad hand. Our story begins with a child whose outlook on the world around her was murky and grim for a time, but if she were to dwell on her position in life she would without hesitation comment that she triumphed through suffering. Yes, as a girl Salem was accustomed an environment that harvested negatively raw emotions that has morphed the young witch into what she is today.
[break][break]
Raised in Hisakawa which was filled to the brim with low lifes and cutthroats, Salem' parents appear to be an ever-elusive memory. Well, that's quite the understatement. The young woman seems completely unknowing of her immediate kin. Although she often fantasized their occupations, wondering what they were like, she doubts their professions accounted for anything truly important. But, what she does know is that whoever they were they must of been something nonhuman as she has inherited many strange abilities from her parents.
[break][break]
Akin to a suppressed traumatic experience subdued by the subconscious, the childhood stage is naught but a blur. In fact, she doesn't remember much of her beginning; memories only of her prepubescent to teenage years. If asked where she was born, she'd utter coldly, "I don't know." She'd brush it off. All she could remember was running, stealing, and seducing to survive before the orphanage for 'gifted' youngsters picked her up. But even after that she traveled light, physically and emotionally. In her eyes making ties was a good way to get hurt and pain was the last thing Salem wanted to feel~
[break][break]
Her time at the orphanage however went relatively well, her ability to ensnare others with her wild charms and alluring nature made things rather simple for the girl growing up. Eventually she was enrolled into Eldritch Academy when her powers began to grow wild and violent, putting those around her in danger.
[break][break]
Children are casualties of war, that is to be commonly accepted; whether through their innocence, life or other means, do they suffer. Some however are dealt an unlucky, bad hand. Our story begins with a child whose outlook on the world around her was murky and grim for a time, but if she were to dwell on her position in life she would without hesitation comment that she triumphed through suffering. Yes, as a girl Salem was accustomed an environment that harvested negatively raw emotions that has morphed the young witch into what she is today.
[break][break]
Raised in Hisakawa which was filled to the brim with low lifes and cutthroats, Salem' parents appear to be an ever-elusive memory. Well, that's quite the understatement. The young woman seems completely unknowing of her immediate kin. Although she often fantasized their occupations, wondering what they were like, she doubts their professions accounted for anything truly important. But, what she does know is that whoever they were they must of been something nonhuman as she has inherited many strange abilities from her parents.
[break][break]
Akin to a suppressed traumatic experience subdued by the subconscious, the childhood stage is naught but a blur. In fact, she doesn't remember much of her beginning; memories only of her prepubescent to teenage years. If asked where she was born, she'd utter coldly, "I don't know." She'd brush it off. All she could remember was running, stealing, and seducing to survive before the orphanage for 'gifted' youngsters picked her up. But even after that she traveled light, physically and emotionally. In her eyes making ties was a good way to get hurt and pain was the last thing Salem wanted to feel~
[break][break]
Her time at the orphanage however went relatively well, her ability to ensnare others with her wild charms and alluring nature made things rather simple for the girl growing up. Eventually she was enrolled into Eldritch Academy when her powers began to grow wild and violent, putting those around her in danger.
[break][break]
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PHARAOH LEAP.
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