Post by :.Sariana.: && .:Tarkothos:. on Jan 3, 2008 6:57:40 GMT -5
Character's name: Sariana Kione
Nicknames: Sar [preferred], Sari
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Age and birthdate: Age 15, born 3:36 PM on February 3.
Physical appearance Sariana isn't tall; in fact, to her eternal embarrassment, she is rather... well, tiny. Only five foot five and thin as a stick, she nonetheless holds a fiery spirit, something that is apparent from the way she holds her head and shoulders high (a necessity anyway, if she wants people to take her seriously) and the way her challenging gaze is unafraid to meet the eyes of others, even those she respects.
Those eyes are perhaps Sar's most unique feature. A grayish-green that darken when she is angry and seem at times almost hypnotic, they hide everything, giving nothing away unless Sariana wishes them to. They are set an average distant apart above a slightly smaller-than-usual nose and a thin, firmly-set mouth that, when Sari laughs, opens wide to reveal gleaming white teeth not unlike her daemon's (though shorter, of course). Her face is oval, of course, but an oval that is nearly a circle, and all of it is framed by shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair that gleams golden in the sun and has a tendency to hide her average ears (Sari never wears her hair up; it's either down or shaved off entirely. The thought of confining it into a ponytail or, worse, a braid horrifies her.).
Clothes, you ask? Mention fashion and Sar will stare at you like a nutcase. In her mind, the only fashion worth following is whatever make you feel most comfortable- not something someone else came up with that has people clambering after it like sheep. She doesn't even were skirts like most girls her age. After all, honestly- who can run in a dress?
So when you see Sariana, she'll usually be wearing black or blue slacks with a boy's shirt, usually one a tiny bit too large for her. Her hair will be down, and she'll be wearing a family heirloom, the only accessory she cares for in the slightest; a howling wolf medallion, made of silver, inlaid with highlights of gold, and dangling from a black cord, it is all she has left of her mother.
Pretty...? Sar could be pretty, if she wanted to be. When she's in a dress and someone has forced her to do up her hair, she's actually quite striking, the shape of her face and body becoming much more apparent than when brown hair swoops in front of her eyes and she's mostly hidden by a large shirt and a pair of pants. But you've got about as much chance of seeing Sar done up pretty than... well, suffice to say it's not common.
Special abilities: Sari isn't magic in any sense of the word; however, her eyes hold hypnotic appeal while at the same time revealing none of her thoughts and emotions, and she is a brilliant arguer, winning almost every battle of words she gets into.
Likes: Fire. Water. Air. Trees. Rocks. Climbing. Drawing. Friends. Kindness. Respect. Animals. Long walks. Night. Sunset. Running. Books.
Dislikes: Betrayal. Liars. Loneliness. Carrots. Snakes. Pink. Lectures, particularly those about soldiers or war.
Fears: Enclosed spaces. Being controlled. Spiders. Drowning. Death. Insanity.
Interests: Whatever catches her attention at any given moment. Pretty much everything. See also: likes.
Personality: Three words sum up Sar's personality: wild, fierce, and free.
Wild. Sariana does what she wants where and when she wants to do it. Advice is for the most part lost on her; she pays attention to the words of others only when she thinks they have something worthwhile to say. The rest of the time she does as she pleases- which mostly involves climbing buildings and trees or running through the streets of Oxford. She adheres to rules, but isn't afraid to exploit loopholes or even just plain break a rule when she feels it's necessary.
Fierce. Sar doesn't simper and bow- she stands up straight and looks even her elders in the eye, challenging them to take her on. She won't even think about backing down from a challenge, and isn't afraid of getting scraped to prove herself. Her spirit is indomitable, and even when thrashed she just keeps on going and going and going...
Another face of this side of Sariana's nature is her fierce loyalty to her friends and loved ones. Insults toward her family are tolerated even less than insults to her, and she would gladly fight to the death to defend those she cares about.
Free. Sariana is a free thinker with her own ideas and principles. She once followed the Church and the Magisterium, like most people, but when news of the new prophecy came to her and she learned of the hunt for Aurora Polaris, Sar began to doubt the good intentions of her leaders. She began to ask even more questions than she had before (and even when young, she has never been afraid to question things that didn't make sense or things she didn't like), and has been growing less and less at ease with the Magisterium.
Another aspect of her freedom (sort of): Sariana refuses to be trapped. She is claustrophobic and the only way for her to keep her head in enclosed spaces is to think about escape. She must be aboveground at all times, preferably outdoors.
Daemon's name: Tarkothos
Nicknames: Tar
Species: Settled as a winged wolf.
Gender: Male
Appearance: Tarkothos' base color is midnight black; both his guard and outer hairs are this deep shade throughout almost his entire body. The only exceptions are a pair of dark silver lines that begin as a V on his forehead, run between his ears to the his shoulders, and flow down his flanks before meeting again at a point at the base of his tail. Silver eyes gleam on Tar's face, as unreadable and hypnotic as his child's, and his muzzle is long and pointed.
In utter contrast to his black body are Tar's huge silvery-white wings. Except when smeared with something like coal dust or ashes, the long feathers in these wings are shiny and lustrous, a color that can be seen easily even at night.
Everything about Tar is powerful. His long legs are capable of sprinting to nearly fourty-five mph, faster than even a normal wolf, and covering fifty miles a day when need be. His huge wings lift him up with ease and allow him to stay aloft for hours if he can find a thermal to glide on, and can even lift a human passenger if Tarkothos holds them in his teeth- which are in and of themselves a long and impressive sight, gleaming white whenever he opens his mouth. Next to the average adult he stands at chest height, and his tireless strides are nearly three feet long.
Personality:Tarkothos is very like his human; however, he is the more sensible of the pair, keeping Sar under control when she tries to flip off the handle one too many times.
Attentive. Tarkothos notices everything, something made easier for him by his wolf's ears and eyes and nose. He misses little, and often watches for approaching trouble, be it something dangerous or an adult who happens to come along as Sariana is doing things she's not supposed to be doing (i.e., climbing onto rooftops). He has strong instincts and is the only one who can give Sar a warning that she might pay attention to; this has saved the pair from death or just from getting into trouble many times.
Fierce. Like his other half, Tar simply refuses to offer his throat. He is stubborn, unwilling to bend to another's challenge, insults, or provocation, and never backs down. He shares Sariana's unstoppable spirit, and punishment just heightens his resolve to defy orders.
Again, like Sar, Tarkothos is fiercely loyal to those he cares about, and without a thought will lay down his life to defend his loved ones.
Family lineage:
+Mother- Diane Kione ((Deceased))
++Grandmother- Silvia Hark
++Grandfather- John Hark ((Deceased))
+Father- Mark Kione
++Grandmother- Tera Kione ((Deceased))
++Grandfather- Tera Kione ((Deceased))
History: Sariana's history is not a happy one; much death is involved, and several trials. But, as is the relationship with everyone and their past, it made her who she is. So if you truly want to understand her... read on.
Sar was born prematurely, and for weeks after her birth her doctors thought she wouldn't survive. Weak, unresponsive, and with breathing difficulties, her doctors fully expected her to die.
But she didn't. It was her daemon, really, who brought her back from the brink of death. Stronger than her, Tar sat his tiny winged pup-form next to his human and remained viligantly with her throughout her illness; one could see them physically breathing together as Tar struggled to keep Sariana alive and thinking.
And so the daughter of Diane and Mark Kione lived, and was loved all the more for her ordeal and the original fear of loss. She was taught and loved and nurtured by her parents; she learned to talk, to ask, to read, and to think outside of the normal boundries. Sar and her daemon were given freedom, the most precious gift either could imgine; freedom of their bodies, to roam and play wherever they pleased and to learn that way, and freedom of mind, for non of the Kiones ever attempted to put boundries on Sar's world of thought, and she questioned and wondered and asked and challenged and thought. She knew love and hope and fierocity, a perfect world- until the sickness.
It wasn't exactly a plague, but it swept right through the family's neighborhood. Four of Sar's living relatives died of the coughing sickness, wracked in agony and pain. The remains of the shattered family- Sariana, Mark, and Silvia- drew close to each other, clinging desperately together.
But after Diane's death, Mark was never the same. As Silvia's physical health slowly depleted, so did Sar's father's mental health, until things reached their current state; Silvia Hark bedridden and weak, Mark Kione afraid of the world and desperate for Sar's mother, who he sometimes, when delerious, continues to call and ask for and try to speak to.
The family has fallen under Sariana's shadow. She does whatever odd jobs she can to take care of her father and grandmother, sometimes having to resort to stealing just to get by. She does her best, though sometimes she has to go hungry to give the other two food; but even when things are bad, she refuses to go for help. Someone might take her beloved family away- and what would happen then?
Role-play sample (2-3 paragraphs):
From Wolf Print
Custom title: .:.Fiery:.:Freedom.:.
Celebrity Claim: Eh... None. Actually, the closest person to Sar I can think of is me.
Previous roles you have played: Wolves, cats, wolves, humans, and more wolves. And no, I am not kidding about the amount of wolves.
Code word: *has been modified by staff*
Nicknames: Sar [preferred], Sari
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Age and birthdate: Age 15, born 3:36 PM on February 3.
Physical appearance Sariana isn't tall; in fact, to her eternal embarrassment, she is rather... well, tiny. Only five foot five and thin as a stick, she nonetheless holds a fiery spirit, something that is apparent from the way she holds her head and shoulders high (a necessity anyway, if she wants people to take her seriously) and the way her challenging gaze is unafraid to meet the eyes of others, even those she respects.
Those eyes are perhaps Sar's most unique feature. A grayish-green that darken when she is angry and seem at times almost hypnotic, they hide everything, giving nothing away unless Sariana wishes them to. They are set an average distant apart above a slightly smaller-than-usual nose and a thin, firmly-set mouth that, when Sari laughs, opens wide to reveal gleaming white teeth not unlike her daemon's (though shorter, of course). Her face is oval, of course, but an oval that is nearly a circle, and all of it is framed by shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair that gleams golden in the sun and has a tendency to hide her average ears (Sari never wears her hair up; it's either down or shaved off entirely. The thought of confining it into a ponytail or, worse, a braid horrifies her.).
Clothes, you ask? Mention fashion and Sar will stare at you like a nutcase. In her mind, the only fashion worth following is whatever make you feel most comfortable- not something someone else came up with that has people clambering after it like sheep. She doesn't even were skirts like most girls her age. After all, honestly- who can run in a dress?
So when you see Sariana, she'll usually be wearing black or blue slacks with a boy's shirt, usually one a tiny bit too large for her. Her hair will be down, and she'll be wearing a family heirloom, the only accessory she cares for in the slightest; a howling wolf medallion, made of silver, inlaid with highlights of gold, and dangling from a black cord, it is all she has left of her mother.
Pretty...? Sar could be pretty, if she wanted to be. When she's in a dress and someone has forced her to do up her hair, she's actually quite striking, the shape of her face and body becoming much more apparent than when brown hair swoops in front of her eyes and she's mostly hidden by a large shirt and a pair of pants. But you've got about as much chance of seeing Sar done up pretty than... well, suffice to say it's not common.
Special abilities: Sari isn't magic in any sense of the word; however, her eyes hold hypnotic appeal while at the same time revealing none of her thoughts and emotions, and she is a brilliant arguer, winning almost every battle of words she gets into.
Likes: Fire. Water. Air. Trees. Rocks. Climbing. Drawing. Friends. Kindness. Respect. Animals. Long walks. Night. Sunset. Running. Books.
Dislikes: Betrayal. Liars. Loneliness. Carrots. Snakes. Pink. Lectures, particularly those about soldiers or war.
Fears: Enclosed spaces. Being controlled. Spiders. Drowning. Death. Insanity.
Interests: Whatever catches her attention at any given moment. Pretty much everything. See also: likes.
Personality: Three words sum up Sar's personality: wild, fierce, and free.
Wild. Sariana does what she wants where and when she wants to do it. Advice is for the most part lost on her; she pays attention to the words of others only when she thinks they have something worthwhile to say. The rest of the time she does as she pleases- which mostly involves climbing buildings and trees or running through the streets of Oxford. She adheres to rules, but isn't afraid to exploit loopholes or even just plain break a rule when she feels it's necessary.
Fierce. Sar doesn't simper and bow- she stands up straight and looks even her elders in the eye, challenging them to take her on. She won't even think about backing down from a challenge, and isn't afraid of getting scraped to prove herself. Her spirit is indomitable, and even when thrashed she just keeps on going and going and going...
Another face of this side of Sariana's nature is her fierce loyalty to her friends and loved ones. Insults toward her family are tolerated even less than insults to her, and she would gladly fight to the death to defend those she cares about.
Free. Sariana is a free thinker with her own ideas and principles. She once followed the Church and the Magisterium, like most people, but when news of the new prophecy came to her and she learned of the hunt for Aurora Polaris, Sar began to doubt the good intentions of her leaders. She began to ask even more questions than she had before (and even when young, she has never been afraid to question things that didn't make sense or things she didn't like), and has been growing less and less at ease with the Magisterium.
Another aspect of her freedom (sort of): Sariana refuses to be trapped. She is claustrophobic and the only way for her to keep her head in enclosed spaces is to think about escape. She must be aboveground at all times, preferably outdoors.
Daemon's name: Tarkothos
Nicknames: Tar
Species: Settled as a winged wolf.
Gender: Male
Appearance: Tarkothos' base color is midnight black; both his guard and outer hairs are this deep shade throughout almost his entire body. The only exceptions are a pair of dark silver lines that begin as a V on his forehead, run between his ears to the his shoulders, and flow down his flanks before meeting again at a point at the base of his tail. Silver eyes gleam on Tar's face, as unreadable and hypnotic as his child's, and his muzzle is long and pointed.
In utter contrast to his black body are Tar's huge silvery-white wings. Except when smeared with something like coal dust or ashes, the long feathers in these wings are shiny and lustrous, a color that can be seen easily even at night.
Everything about Tar is powerful. His long legs are capable of sprinting to nearly fourty-five mph, faster than even a normal wolf, and covering fifty miles a day when need be. His huge wings lift him up with ease and allow him to stay aloft for hours if he can find a thermal to glide on, and can even lift a human passenger if Tarkothos holds them in his teeth- which are in and of themselves a long and impressive sight, gleaming white whenever he opens his mouth. Next to the average adult he stands at chest height, and his tireless strides are nearly three feet long.
Personality:Tarkothos is very like his human; however, he is the more sensible of the pair, keeping Sar under control when she tries to flip off the handle one too many times.
Attentive. Tarkothos notices everything, something made easier for him by his wolf's ears and eyes and nose. He misses little, and often watches for approaching trouble, be it something dangerous or an adult who happens to come along as Sariana is doing things she's not supposed to be doing (i.e., climbing onto rooftops). He has strong instincts and is the only one who can give Sar a warning that she might pay attention to; this has saved the pair from death or just from getting into trouble many times.
Fierce. Like his other half, Tar simply refuses to offer his throat. He is stubborn, unwilling to bend to another's challenge, insults, or provocation, and never backs down. He shares Sariana's unstoppable spirit, and punishment just heightens his resolve to defy orders.
Again, like Sar, Tarkothos is fiercely loyal to those he cares about, and without a thought will lay down his life to defend his loved ones.
Family lineage:
+Mother- Diane Kione ((Deceased))
++Grandmother- Silvia Hark
++Grandfather- John Hark ((Deceased))
+Father- Mark Kione
++Grandmother- Tera Kione ((Deceased))
++Grandfather- Tera Kione ((Deceased))
History: Sariana's history is not a happy one; much death is involved, and several trials. But, as is the relationship with everyone and their past, it made her who she is. So if you truly want to understand her... read on.
Sar was born prematurely, and for weeks after her birth her doctors thought she wouldn't survive. Weak, unresponsive, and with breathing difficulties, her doctors fully expected her to die.
But she didn't. It was her daemon, really, who brought her back from the brink of death. Stronger than her, Tar sat his tiny winged pup-form next to his human and remained viligantly with her throughout her illness; one could see them physically breathing together as Tar struggled to keep Sariana alive and thinking.
And so the daughter of Diane and Mark Kione lived, and was loved all the more for her ordeal and the original fear of loss. She was taught and loved and nurtured by her parents; she learned to talk, to ask, to read, and to think outside of the normal boundries. Sar and her daemon were given freedom, the most precious gift either could imgine; freedom of their bodies, to roam and play wherever they pleased and to learn that way, and freedom of mind, for non of the Kiones ever attempted to put boundries on Sar's world of thought, and she questioned and wondered and asked and challenged and thought. She knew love and hope and fierocity, a perfect world- until the sickness.
It wasn't exactly a plague, but it swept right through the family's neighborhood. Four of Sar's living relatives died of the coughing sickness, wracked in agony and pain. The remains of the shattered family- Sariana, Mark, and Silvia- drew close to each other, clinging desperately together.
But after Diane's death, Mark was never the same. As Silvia's physical health slowly depleted, so did Sar's father's mental health, until things reached their current state; Silvia Hark bedridden and weak, Mark Kione afraid of the world and desperate for Sar's mother, who he sometimes, when delerious, continues to call and ask for and try to speak to.
The family has fallen under Sariana's shadow. She does whatever odd jobs she can to take care of her father and grandmother, sometimes having to resort to stealing just to get by. She does her best, though sometimes she has to go hungry to give the other two food; but even when things are bad, she refuses to go for help. Someone might take her beloved family away- and what would happen then?
Role-play sample (2-3 paragraphs):
From Wolf Print
Singer stood carefully, her limbs encrusted with snow that cracked and fell away as she moved. Showers of sparkling white rose below her, above her, around her, like a cold mist, like a ghost. Like a memory, so long forgotten- the memory of a friend, of a love, of love itself, which was itself more memory than not, more dream than solid figure. It was just like it had been that day she had first seen Nerezza- leaves had swirled around her, dancing their endless dance, just as the snow was now.
But then she moved again, breaking through the drifting snow. Her legs and chest and head moved forward through the memory, shattering it like a blasted tree, like a dream torn away as the dreamer wakes. She walked slowly, steadily, not sure she believed the form in front of her. She had never expected to see Nerezza again, and wasn’t quite sure she really was. Perhaps she was still dreaming, still seeing through closed eyes and living in a different world.
Nerezza winced, and Singer instantly regretted her shout. She should have held her tongue in rein, held it until her friend knew she was here. Nonetheless, she had cried out, and she couldn’t pull the word back in. Instead she sped up, and again, until she was running forward, running to her dear, broken friend.
Creaking vocals- not Singer’s, but Nerezza’s, sounding worse than they had on that afternoon when Nerezza had been starved and water-deprived. They hurt Singer’s ears like something physical, and her heart ached even as she pricked her ears forward, straining to catch her friend’s rasping words.
“Who are you talking to, Nerezza?” Singer spoke softly this time, more of a whisper than anything, her voice back to its normal song-like quality. She was drawing level with the other fea now, and still could see no one to question, no one to speak to but herself. Once before she had worried for Nerezza’s sanity, but only because she didn’t know the story behind her friend’s actions; now she knew something was truly wrong.
But she didn’t speak again, merely drawing close and sitting beside Nerezza, listening to her words and feeling her heart swell with sorrow. Her tongue lashed out once, twice, three times, cleansing the bitter tears from her friend’s face- tears like ice, like crystals, like the color of Singer’s own eyes. Blue, sad, alone- but not alone, each following the next. Dancing, like the leaves.
Now she did speak, afraid for her friend, afraid of her desperate, pleading words. “Nerezza, my dearest friend, no one abandoned you. No one.” She stretched her head forward, nosing Nerezza’s head up so that they were eye to eye. “I’ll stay, Nerezza. Not so that you can die, but so that you can remember again how to live. I’ll stay, my friend, for as long as it takes.”
She would. Afraid or no, Singer would stay, until Nerezza either woke back to life or was claimed by the elements. She would stay with her friend.
But then she moved again, breaking through the drifting snow. Her legs and chest and head moved forward through the memory, shattering it like a blasted tree, like a dream torn away as the dreamer wakes. She walked slowly, steadily, not sure she believed the form in front of her. She had never expected to see Nerezza again, and wasn’t quite sure she really was. Perhaps she was still dreaming, still seeing through closed eyes and living in a different world.
Nerezza winced, and Singer instantly regretted her shout. She should have held her tongue in rein, held it until her friend knew she was here. Nonetheless, she had cried out, and she couldn’t pull the word back in. Instead she sped up, and again, until she was running forward, running to her dear, broken friend.
Creaking vocals- not Singer’s, but Nerezza’s, sounding worse than they had on that afternoon when Nerezza had been starved and water-deprived. They hurt Singer’s ears like something physical, and her heart ached even as she pricked her ears forward, straining to catch her friend’s rasping words.
“Who are you talking to, Nerezza?” Singer spoke softly this time, more of a whisper than anything, her voice back to its normal song-like quality. She was drawing level with the other fea now, and still could see no one to question, no one to speak to but herself. Once before she had worried for Nerezza’s sanity, but only because she didn’t know the story behind her friend’s actions; now she knew something was truly wrong.
But she didn’t speak again, merely drawing close and sitting beside Nerezza, listening to her words and feeling her heart swell with sorrow. Her tongue lashed out once, twice, three times, cleansing the bitter tears from her friend’s face- tears like ice, like crystals, like the color of Singer’s own eyes. Blue, sad, alone- but not alone, each following the next. Dancing, like the leaves.
Now she did speak, afraid for her friend, afraid of her desperate, pleading words. “Nerezza, my dearest friend, no one abandoned you. No one.” She stretched her head forward, nosing Nerezza’s head up so that they were eye to eye. “I’ll stay, Nerezza. Not so that you can die, but so that you can remember again how to live. I’ll stay, my friend, for as long as it takes.”
She would. Afraid or no, Singer would stay, until Nerezza either woke back to life or was claimed by the elements. She would stay with her friend.
Custom title: .:.Fiery:.:Freedom.:.
Celebrity Claim: Eh... None. Actually, the closest person to Sar I can think of is me.
Previous roles you have played: Wolves, cats, wolves, humans, and more wolves. And no, I am not kidding about the amount of wolves.
Code word: *has been modified by staff*
