Post by Ariah on Mar 8, 2013 0:27:57 GMT -5
Player Title:V
Full Birth Name:
Ariah Daughter of Kariyah
Alias/ nickname:
Frill
Race:
Angel
Gender:
Female
Age:
91
Physical Appearance:
Ariah stands a whole 5'4 with long, platinum blonde hair and wings, and baby blue eyes that when under any kind of stress, or excitement, turn pale pink-red. Her skin is paper white and she has a very thin, frail looking build, but is all muscle from the ribs down. Her wings are very delicate looking and she some times has problems with initial take off because of a scar on the left wing where feathers no longer grow from, but once she manages to get up into the air has no problem staying there, or landing.
She's generally clothed in light brown leather haltertop that ends at her rib cage, brown leather jacket, a pair of dark jeans and knee high, four inch spike heel steel toed boots that serve as her primary weapon.
Personality Traits:
Ariah unlike many angels LOVES to fly. The wind in her hair, sun on her face, all of it except for the nasty resulting sun burn which is completely and totally worth it and occasionally sneaks off to find secluded, or desolate areas to just glide lazily in circles as a pass time, though she generally wont if she thinks there's any chance of being caught.
That said, Ariah usually comes off as weak, and rather unassuming, some times even a little ditzy when she's playing the cute, frail girl/manipulative brat to try to get something she wants. Her voice is extremely feminine and cute, and a slight birth defect in her lungs makes it hard for her to make louder sounds unless she's genuinely, flat out livid.
She's extremely patient and has an inherent hatred of other angels and even more so males of any species, though if she thinks she can pull off something that would seriously disturb or bother another angel she's all over it just for the fact.
In a fight, she will use her petite size to her advantage, and specializes in dodging, counter attacks and pressure points, along with a completely heartless temperament in battle.
Weaponry:
Pair of hunting knives sheathed in her boots.
Heel razor- Metal spike heels have a 3 inch razor edge to the backs of the four inch spikes.
Extras:
hip pouch; 1 spare set of cloths, jerky, water bottle, bandages, sewing needle, black thread
History Summary:
Ariah was not expected to live past her first week, and when by some unknown miracle she did, her parents more or less ignored the frail child save for obligatory feeding and grooming, and even then it was typically very minimal. More so when her brother was born a few years later who was doted on and attended when he was born strong and healthy, unlike his older sister with the lung defect, and hypersensitivity to the heat, and light who they expected to keel over any moment. And really, the desert climate did not bode well in making her seem any less frail as in the very early stages of her life she would succumb to heat induced seizures until she reached the age of 10.
As she grew, she vied hard for her parents attention, ever jealous of her brother, and developed a bit of a mean streak. She made a habit of snapping at her brother and trying to contest him whenever she got the chance, but to no end as he refused out right and often to take on the girl saying that she was too weak, or that she looked too warm and should relax-which of course she generally took for an insult. And eventually, she watched enviously as her father took the boy out. She wanted to go out with father and learn to fight. She wanted to hunt things. She wanted to learn to kill. But no, that apparently was something her brother would get to learn first hand. As for her? She was expected to stay at home and tend to... whatever it was they could find to keep her occupied and out of their hair.
So she began teaching herself, taking to studying anatomy and with her frail wrists, found herself frustrated and angered that she couldn't carry a heavier weapon that a small hunting knife without complications, and worse yet, couldn't handle the thing being blocked in an actual combat situation as her frail wrists would sprain or worse. Instead, she learned pressure points, taught herself to dodge, and found that while her weak wrists prevented her from doing a lot in training with anything that required her to use her arms, her legs were fine, and she could deliver kicks with wicked speed and accuracy. After a bit of practice, confronted her parents and brother who was at least twice her size. If she could beat him in a sparing match, her parents would HAVE to accept her.
Despite everything he did, her little brother was unable to hit his sister even once and with a hard boot to the solar plexus, her brother dropped with a thud out cold. Despite that though, her father declared it a fluke, and in her frustration, she snapped, and fled the angel city, mad beyond words and fed up with her parents, and even her race determined never to return. About a year after escaping into the city, she changed her clothing style to what she wears now, and got her paws on her boots as steel toed heels, and modifying the razors and metal spikes into heels herself with a bit of work so that she had a more efficient weapon she could actually use.
Post Example:
Ariah danced around her brothers strikes easily, determined not to let even a single strike hit. She would damn well have her parents acceptance. This would show them. They were wrong, she wasn't weak, she was still useful. Could still be just as vicious, just as deadly as her brother. Finally spotting her opening, she lashed out with a viscous kick to his solar plexus and watched the shock cross his face as she winded him. Her brother fell and she turned with a twisted little grin to her father who... was glaring at her? There was more hate there in the other angels eyes than she had ever seen. But why? Should he not be proud of her? Her face fell, flecks of pink appeared in her pale eyes which were riddled with confusion. "A lucky blow, but you could never do it again." Ariah stared at him. Had she really heard that right? "Pardon?" She asked disbelievingly. There was no possible way she really heard that right. But all her father did was turn and walk away. "Father?" This wasn't happening. Through all her work and practice. She'd beat her brother. Proved she could hold her own. What twisted black magic was this? "Hey!" she snapped, she'd had it. She'd worked too hard for that. "HEY!" she bellowed, furious. She believed the humans had an appropriate choice of words for this kind of scenario, and right now, she really didn't give a damn how childish and rude it was. As hearing her actually scream at him for the first time, her father turned with a slight look of surprise. Her lung defect had before her training prevented her from really yelling before. "Fuck you ass hole!" she screeched, knowing her father would be more insulted and disturbed that she had used such words than from the actual insult itself. With that, she turned on her heel and headed to collect her things. There was no way she would stand this anymore, she would pack up what she needed and leave. The hell with her father, the hell with the whole damn race in fact. They were all the same, she was sick and tired of being looked down upon. |