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Comfygazing ONLINE   Forum Posts: 767  |
Posted: Fri, 27/12/2024 00:52 (3 Months ago) |
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Still, Ibaraki's lower lip wobbled despite the safety that the lack of any adults provided, shuffling towards the edge of the bed with all the pouting regret of a child who had been caught in the act. "I-i know.... But you know I don't like going alone.... I'm sorry Jiejie...." Ibaraki sniffed, fingers finding purchase on Phoebes' nightshirt, all while neatly avoiding her eyes. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Thu, 26/12/2024 00:36 (3 Months ago) |
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Scooting to the edge of the bed, Ibaraki carefully found stable footing with only minimal wobbling. Looking around the dark room, seeing the bodies still unmoving on the beds, Ibaraki shuffled over to the closest one as the rotting floorboards creaked under the unsteady footsteps. Struggling to climb onto the bed, Ibaraki only succeeded after a very valiant fight against the enemy known as linen, only coming out with a spot of red darkening the bandages around his hands. Huffing at the victory, Ibaraki crawled towards the head of the bed, gently patted the warm cheek of the bed's occupant. "Jiejie.... Jiejie its time to eat..." Ibaraki called out softly, flopping down on the thin pillow in front of the occupant to try and catch her eye. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 20/12/2024 10:36 (3 Months ago) |
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⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Intro ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ Heir apparent of Ye Wishworks, a famous high end music shop specializing in in house made string instruments, Ye MengYa lives and breaths music. As one of the older regulars of the Hope's Lounge, he mostly mentors the younger musicians and helps tune and repair their instruments. They say that Ye MengYa offering to personally craft you an instrument is a sign that you will be one of the ones who will go on to have successful careers outside of the Lounge. Very rarely does he take the stage but sometimes a Goth Visual Kei Band by the name of Death Struggle will take the stage to show any cocky upstarts their place, supported by the stalwart bassist, MENG. ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Personality ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ With a blank face for most emotions, most assume that Ye MengYa doesn't quite care about most matters. Which would be true. He's apathetic about most things in life and has long since grown jaded about all manner of things, never quite as energetic as the rest of his band about performances and always world-weary when conversing with his mentees. While behind the counter of Ye Wishworks, he wraps that indifference even tighter around himself, only acting with the perfunctory kindness expected of him as someone providing a service. He finds joy in the small things though, from simply sitting in the various Hopes Lounge performances to hanging out with his bandmates, Ye MengYa is a bit of a mystery that doesn't want to be solved. He has an odd naming sense, but its kind of funny so no one really stops him. ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Personality Type ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ INFJ | 5w6 - The Observer | Quandrix College (Blue/Green) ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Description ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆  The definition of a sickly young master, Ye MengYa very rarely makes any effort to make himself look at any way shape or form presentable. With perpetual half lidded eyes decorated with heavy bags, and unkempt hair that hasn't seen the bristle of a brush in years, he certainly doesn't look like a heir to one of the most influential music shop. Truly, he just puts on whatever is closest to him, uncarring about how sloppy he may look. The only time when he really puts in any effort into his appearance is whenever he preforms with Death Struggle []Height: 177 (5'10) []Weight: 52kg (120lbs) []Skin Tone: Peach []Hair Style: Tied into a lazy braid - unstyled when preforming []Hair Colour: Black - wears a purple wig when preforming []Eye Colour: Brown - blue contacts when preforming []Clothes: Usually throws on a band-t and cargo pants, fishnet clothes if he's feeling fancy. If it doesn't impede his movements, great. Please search up JILUKA if you want a general idea of performance outfit vibes w []Accessories: The one thing he won't compromise on is wearing platform boots that make using his rollator almost impossible []Other: Owns a Wheelchair named Meng'er (艨儿), a Rollator named A'Meng (阿蒙) and a pair of Cuff Crutches named XiaoMeng(小梦) ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Instruments ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ MengMeng (猛朦) - Double Bass | Meng (盟) - Electric Bass | MengYa (萌雅) - Cello ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Magic Type ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ Black ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ History ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ Born to an old family that had a long history of instrument making and repairing, Ye MengYa was brought up with music. Classically trained from a young age, he learned to play and make the various instruments that littered around the workshop. His first instrument was the violin but he only started to take music seriously when he got his hands on a cello, the start of everything. He quickly climbed up the youth rankings and cemented himself as an up and coming talent within the classical world, setting his sights on securing a place on the national symphonic orchestra. But the higher he climbed the less fulfilled he felt. It didn't really matter in the long run if he won this competition or that, if his client was the fist chair for some symphony or the third. He was growing tired of it all, the work, the pressure, the expectations of it all. It started with moments where his fingers froze. Nothing weird, cramps where an every day phenomenon. Double vision wasn't anything weird and the pins and needles living in his limbs were from being stuck in one position for so long. Sure having a high heart rate wasn't weird or odd but was it supposed to be at 160 when he was sitting down? He was found not even a week later catatonic in his workshop. Guillain-Barre, the hospital declared, not the worst case they had seen but not pretty either. It would be difficult to return to his old life, the syndrome having progressed quite far before he was finally admitted, so all Ye MingYa could do was try. Try to return to that hellish life by forcing his legs to walk without without support. To become the picture perfect heir. To subject himself to scrutiny. Again. Not going to therapy was the easiest decision he had ever made He had frequented Hope's Lounge when he was younger, so returning to that place only felt natural. That was when he had felt free, when he was still young and hopeful for what music could give him. Maybe he would find a reason to continue with music in the very place where he had cultivated that passion ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Sexuality ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ Aro-Gay - Indulges in the occasional hookups but nothing beyond that ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Voice Claim ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ Sawashiro Miyuki [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Sat, 07/12/2024 10:13 (3 Months ago) |
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"And yet, it never moves as you desire." He sighed, shoulders rolling into such a lazy shrug that one would be hard pressed recognize the same action from the straight laced servant who had entered the room. "Perchance Milady be amendable to palsy companionship to pass the night with? Though, this one only can promise a corpse to spend with, anything further would be an overstatement of the currently available skill sets." [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Mon, 02/12/2024 11:18 (3 Months ago) |
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Granted, there weren't many who were as old as his Master which only left only a few identities to narrow down but that wasn't on his mind currently. His only mind could only process that there was someone his superior who was in need of assistance. It only seemed natural that he would extend his in return, his Master not objecting in the slightest. And so, he stepped beside Lady Shieta, bowing his head in deference. "Good evening, Milady. This one hopes that the night hasn't overstayed its welcome?" [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 29/11/2024 22:46 (3 Months ago) |
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Composing himself, he slid the fur back into place, fastening it. Keeping a straight face, he let himself fall back into the mask that he had cultivated for so long. Physical or mental, masks were a familiar thing, a comfort that lay heavy on the things that roared and raged to be let free. Such things were superfluous, uneeded. What good was a servant if they couldn't learn to keep things to themself? Stepping out, he blended back among the crowds, doing as a servant would. Simply listen, and assist when needed. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 29/11/2024 10:34 (3 Months ago) |
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Still, he could find humor in the irony of it all. In an event where everyone's identities were masked and anonymized, here he was with his identity proudly displayed for all to see. It made him identifiable, which he supposed was the root cause for the incomprehensible amount of trust he had been temporarily given. With what scraps of information he had gleaned, already he could begin to guess who he had shamelessly inserted his aid to, but while bloodlust was not the most common ailments among the vampiric gentry, it was common enough that he didn't feel confident enough in his assessment to pinpoint who he was conversing with. "Milady has a discerning eye, indeed this one serves the House of Drăculești." He affirmed, pride to his Master kept locked right in his chest. "No thanks are ever needed, not when it is a servant's task gladly done." [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 29/11/2024 07:47 (3 Months ago) |
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Without an outward ounce of emotion, he lifted the Moroi close enough for it to latch onto the meat of Duchess Misako's hand. There wasn't even a pinprick of pain as an avaricious mouth found the source of energy, its body swelling and bloating as it slowly rounded out from embryonic horror into impish infancy. A wave of lethargy crashing over Misako as the treatment progressed, nothing more than the deep seated desire to simply rest for just a moment. Moroi lived off the energies of anything that had the capacity to live and this particular one was starved of a meal, its greedy gorging consuming the bloodlust in a matter of minutes. Watching with a sharp ear, listening to the darkness that seemed to fill up empty desires, he let himself wonder. He knew it wasn't trust, that was naive to even consider. Perhaps the desire to not cause a scene? Or to keep in his Master's good graces? It was such a confusing choice, drinking the unknown vial and hoping that it wasn't poison. He simply couldn't understand it, the illogical nature of it all befuddling. Trust was earned, never given. But even if he couldn't understand, he could always respond in kind. As he felt the bloodlust temper itself into something healthy, something that was more than manageable, his hand snatched the Moroi and dispelled it immediately. Small fry was usually easily dispersed with a thought, nothing more than his will needed as ultimately its power was under his control, but he was surprised to find that this time he had to actually try to wrangle the summon into submission before it finally followed his orders. That was something that should never be consumed. Already familiar with how the process usually went, the fur coat draped as an overskirt over his hips was thrown around Duchess Misako's shoulders. Having one's energy forcefully taken always left the victim cold and tired, even if it was taking away excess, an unpleasant side effect that came as a natural consequence of such workings though consuming Bloodlust was new. What the aftercare for such a thing was, even he wasn't sure but it was not for his comfort that such things were done. "Would Milady require anything else? The lethargy should soon fade, but consider this one at your disposal as you recover." [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 29/11/2024 04:50 (4 Months ago) |
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Still, his other hand came up to conjure up a most wretched thing. Dehydrated and shrivelled up, it was hard to tell what it was from a first glance other than the wrinkled red skin that curled up into itself in fetal stasis. A singular yellow eye blinked open, the searching mouth already drawn to the energies that rumbled rampant. Another option, choose to let an unknown entity latch on and ebb the blood-lust. Not another one that he had any faith that the Beautiful Abundance would choose either, the trust needed to even entertain the idea beyond the scope of what even he was capable of with anyone other than his Master. The final option stared back at the unbalanced gaze that seemed to look beyond him at at something that was simply an apparition of something he had no jurisdiction to speculate over. Of course, getting blood on his dress was unfortunate but he wouldn't die. Not really. Even crushing what remained of his organs would keep him dead for long, the spirit much more important than the body which it housed. He had died before, he could handle another few rounds with the Terminus. Probably the most likely outcome of them all even if it was the most troublesome. He couldn't fault her for that, it would only be troublesome to him, after all. And so his assistance was laid out as thus. "Imbibe, Entrust, or Indulge?" he offered, eyeless mask showing nothing but silent acceptance of whatever she chose. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Thu, 28/11/2024 16:33 (4 Months ago) |
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And so it stayed as such, waiting until the faintest squeak of Mriye's shoes signaled his leave which he gladly took with only the faintest echo of ringing bells. Judging by the excessive clink of glass and loosening lips that seemed to spill unspeakables, the wine was quite the hit. Considering his current position, he was free to indulge in something he normally wouldn't even think of but the knowledge that he'd have to physically push aside his mask to do so was unappealing to say the least. The uneven stumble of someone who had perhaps overindulged in the opulence of the night caught his attention, the odd rhythm of footfalls uncharacteristic of the drunk, yet it was clearly unbalanced. Perhaps of the mind, and not the bottle, he mused but regardless of his status as a guest and not a servant, one may find it hard to disregard eight centuries of training for a single night. His ears led him to one of the private rooms that were littered around the ball, a staple of any sign of wealth. Not surprising, he could admit, that one would desire the safety of enclosed spaces after the overstimulating festivities of an open ballroom. And so he waited for a few moments before knocking on the wall, careful to leave the open door unobstructed by his body. "Forgive the insolence, but this one humbly requests if Milady requires any assistance." [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Tue, 26/11/2024 21:54 (4 Months ago) |
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In comparison to this ragged laugh of an outfit, he looked like a god. Odd, he briefly noted if only noting the coarse texture that ever so briefly wrapped around his legs during the split second exchange. Masquerades were a point of pride for vampires, no one would be caught undead in anything less than their 5th most extravagant outfit and to even receive an invitation meant that one had no less than 78 potential choices for ball wear. Perhaps an exaggeration, but the opulence of it all was certainly not for anyone other than the most celebrated of vampiric figures. Still, he was only a servant. He had no standing to judge anyone else on their state of dress, not when his own were borrowed riches from a Master who hated losing face above all. "Apologies, esteemed guest." he demurred appropriately, bowing to The Mystery [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Tue, 26/11/2024 21:33 (4 Months ago) |
 "DontberudeDontaskquestionsDontbreakcurfewDontlistentothevoicesDontlistentothevoicesDontuseyourabilityDontuseyourabilityDontuseyourabilityDontDontDontDontDont-" "... Ah" Name: Ibaraki Gender: (ﾉ≧ڡ≦) Age: 10 Birthday: February 3rd Powers: Infernal Hellfire Within Ibaraki's blood dwells a hellish power. Perhaps the most striking thing about the condition is the increased amount of oxygen that can be carried through Ibaraki's veins. With this trait, Ibaraki's muscles are much stronger than average paired with a monsterous amount of stamina though the downside of such physical prowess comes at the cost of increased oxygen intake to simply function. Another perk of this power is the ability to shapeshift. This manifests primarily as the horn like growths atop Ibaraki's head but feats such as changing appearances, genders, and species are doable but require much more energy the greater the change. As the name suggests, because of the immense power that this skill has it is quite painful to live with as the enhanced blood quite literally feels like being burned alive. With great power comes great responsibility and this is natures way of reminding Ibaraki. Theoretically, if you removed all of Ibaraki's blood then the power would be removed as well but Ibaraki would be dead anyways so Strengths & Weakness: Ibaraki is strong. Freakishly strong. Because of the cursed blood, Ibaraki's muscles are much more dense than a regular adult, much less a child. Anything that would require the use of muscles, Ibaraki excels and over-performs in. For a 10 year old, Ibaraki also weirdly perceptive, observant and sharp despite never speaking up about what goes on in the orphanage. With a sharp and keen mind, connecting clues and coming to conclusions far faster than any of the older kids but is also aware enough to always put personal safety first. Ibaraki is more than willing to play the part of a scared obedient child if it means living another day. Perhaps that is Ibaraki's biggest weakness, the unwillingness to share anything on the mind. Ibaraki is deeply distrustful of anything that moves and keeps any cards close to the chest. Knowledge is power and as long as Ibaraki knows things that others don't, there is always the chance of fighting back. Ibaraki also runs out of breath quite easily and doesn't do well in areas where air flow is thin. Ibaraki is easily winded by heavy exercise despite a natural proficiency with it, only able to sustain the superhuman feats of athleticism for as long as proper breath can be drawn. Ibaraki's power demands excessive energy so Ibaraki has a high metabolism that borderlines on almost freakish, the amount of energy needed to keep oxygen circulating and heart pumping easily putting adults to shame and a dent in the wallet. Because of the over reliance reliance of oxygen to keep excess of blood running, and the fact that Ibaraki keeps bleeding everywhere, Ibaraki is prone to bouts of dizziness and fainting, the weak constitution just not built to support the kind of body Ibaraki was born with. Iba's also just kinda a crybaby ngl kids not coping well at all Personality: As expected of someone Ibaraki's age, theres still a lot of childish youthful innocence still stored in such a tiny body. Ibaraki doesn't question many things, simply accepting that things are that the way they are and lives life as freely as possible. Despite being unable to do a lot of things that the other kids can, it never deters Ibaraki from joining in and having fun in any capacity possible. Ibaraki often hangs out with the older children of the institute, always accompanying them for quality de-stressing and plain old companionship, finding joy in making others crack a smile. Spending a lot of time stuck by Nurse Lisa's side doesn't deter Ibaraki from being well liked by the other orphanage kids, always social and eager to make the best of the day. But innocence is not ignorance and there's a frightening amount of perception that lays within these wide gullible eyes. Advice and astute observations made under the guise of a child's bluntness always bubbles forth at the most unexpected of times, often guiding others through personal matters with tact and compassion. One has to wonder if Ibaraki is only playing a role to help lighten the mood and is hiding a more warped personality somewhere under that kind facade Personality Type: [Optional.] ESFP - The Entertainer | 7w8 - The Opportunist | Prismari Collage (Blue/Red) Description: Small, round, cute. Those are the first three words anyone would come up with when looking at the adorable round form of Ibaraki. With wide amber eyes framed with black sclera always brimming with wonder and curiosity, its hard to deny Ibaraki anything whenever those innocent eyes are trained on someone. Puffy cloud-like hair frames a round pudgy face, the pale skin marred with peeling flesh around the upper cheeks almost blending in with the snowy hair, small red horn like growths lie bleeding and broken on a pure head. Often times, Ibaraki is seen holding a round puffball plush, the only possession that the small child will not part with. []Height: 130cm/4'3 []Weight: 20kg/44lbs []Skin Tone: Pale []Hair Style: Untamed and unstyled []Hair Colour: White []Eye Colour: Red []Clothes: Thin hand me downs, usually bloodstained []Accessories: His skin is always peeling, exposing muscle. That also means he's a walking bio-hazard []Other: Puffball plush named Ibaball History: Its a classic story. There was once two people who adored each other. One, a girl ridiculed for her pale skin and demon eyes, the other a boy who never wanted a quiet life. They fell in love and ran away to the ends of the earth, love the only companion they needed. Gallivanting across the lands in search of adventure and romance, they tangled themselves in their own happily ever after. But love doesn't save lives and when their child finally took a breath, it stole the rest from the mother. At first the child was loved, the only reminder of a time treasured and precious. But as the child grew up, the same white hair and pale pink eyes stared back at the Father and lost in his grief, could no longer escape from the spectres that haunted him. And so, the child forgot. Forgot the final breaths that were gifted, the embrace that was freely given, the love that had long since dried up. Sexuality: n/A Voice Claim: Bake-kujira (Asami Seto) Palpad? Lemme INNNNNNNN [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Tue, 26/11/2024 05:50 (4 Months ago) |
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It really didn't explain why his Master had sent him as his representative, if the goal was to keep identities a secret and feast with the eyes but he never claimed to understand his Master's machinations. A servant never needed to anyways. They only needed to do. Closing his eyes, to replace the swirling whorls of carved wood with the empty nothingness of his mind, a single eye rapidly blinked the dust away, dilating against the sudden influx of bedazzling lights. Much better. The floor felt cold under his bare feet and the gentle chime of a hundred bells chimed with each step he took. Smoothly sliding around the tittering nobles and drunken rambling with the experience of a servant all too used to navigating the noble rabble. His hands itched to pluck the empty wine glasses from idle hands, the temptation almost irresistible as he made his way from where he had loitered in the shadows out towards the spotlight where he would never belong in But good gods were they starving. Sacrifices would need to be made to keep stomachs satiated [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Mon, 25/11/2024 11:00 (4 Months ago) |
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He had been in parties before, of course. His Master did used to throw many a time ago, when he still had a name for others to call him by. He still remembers them, the high class chatter that spilled from red drunk lips, opulence draped over the tables as the finest of Wallachia's delicacies laid sprawled over the expensive silk, draped in finery that reflected tempting decadence. It had tempered into strategic gatherings of only his Master's closest confidants over the years though extravagant displays of ludicrous wealth would always be thrown every so often to satisfy his vampiric pride, not ostentatious enough to be gaudy but grand enough to remind anyone who the bloodlines progenitated from. But this was his first time properly attending one. As a guest. It had been so tempting to stand with the other servants that lined the walls, sidestepping tottering niceties and refilling waning glasses. Digging hi nails into his forearms clasped neatly behind his back, he physically had to restrain himself from going against his very nature. That was what he was created for. Servitude. Why he was chosen to represent his Master's house was still a mystery. He wasn't the type to normally be chosen, that honour went to those who were of noble, but disposable, blood. Weaklings who allied themselves with his master after attempting to rip the heart that kept them alive, vermin unfit to even stand in the same territory as his master. Well spoken and educated in the survival of the Masquerade but if anything were to occur, it would only be one coin lost among the deluge of wealth. In comparison, he was a forgotten story that persecuted it's existence. No one would remember his mortal life, not anymore than they remembered his unlife either. He was simply good at his job. And that job, quite evidently, was not as a socialite. Still, as he stood in the shadows and keenly aware of how his simple dress paled in comparison to even the table decorations, he simply listened. The familiar heavy weight of a mask that sat on his face and the darkness it brought with it was the only comfort he could take in, the roughly hewn wood the consistent marker of his place in the world as the string dug its brand into his neck. The meagre comfort he could take in such an unfamiliar place grounded his wandering thoughts into something more solid, more concrete. Because even if his robs felt almost too luxurious for him, unused to the soft silks and extravagant embroidery, he still had his unseeing mask. One that only smiled. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Mon, 18/11/2024 12:01 (4 Months ago) |
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[Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Fri, 15/11/2024 04:36 (4 Months ago) |
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Rolling his eyes at everyone's dramatics, Metsk shoved a hand down a random pocket, hands immediately closing around what he was looking for. Perks of dressing like a religious heart attack even if over half of the country didn't believe in such things, small towns liked to disagree with popular notions. Feeling around the other pockets, he was only mildly disappointed to report that he only had one on hand, but whatever. It was serviceable and thats all that really counted in a survival situation. "Well," He grinned, brandishing his utility knife almost proudly as he slipped the metal from its handmade leather cover. "Not as sharp as your wit, but still plenty usable, I hope?" [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Wed, 13/11/2024 02:39 (4 Months ago) |
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"Its really nice to meet you, Ymaa." He greeted, pulling on his years and years of visiting the pediatrics ward to keep face. She seemed so sweet, someone who shouldn't be among the gathered as she stood out so much. Speaking of standing out, purple hair wasn't exactly the most common occurrence. Catching Yang Mi's eyes, Metsk tilted his head in an invitation for her to introduce herself [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Sun, 10/11/2024 22:19 (4 Months ago) |
 "... As Domnitor Desires, this Iciolan shall Fulfill" Name: n/A Title: Iciolan Lăcrămioara Age: ~750 Gender/Sexuality: Male | He/It | Gay Personality: ISFJ - The Defender | 2w3 - The Helper | sp/so | Boros Legion (Red/White) Its hard to distinguish a personality from it, its silence and thick face making it virtually impossible for any outsider to glean any semblance of a personality from it. Gifted to barely have a presence at the best of times, it is hard for others to even recognize that there is someone in the room with them but even if they do, its difficult for others to even register a servant as a threat. During social functions, the servant acts as anyone in its station does, humble and only speaking when necessary. Its hard working nature has cemented it as an invaluable member of the serving staff, always completing tasks with maximum efficiency with the highest quality of service. it is also known to take care of the other staff, helping around with various tasks once it has completed its own chores, its hyper-competency helping keep only the most trusted of staff on board. As expected of a vampire it is quick and efficient in battle, relishing in the bloodshed it brings. it will never wait for someone to attack first, always ready to rip into someones throat at the first scent of danger that raises its wicked head. it has a bad habit of playing with its food and playing the merciful hunter who will let them escape if they beg prettily enough, a little too self assured in its strength. it is one who will never play fair in a fight, using its deceptively weak appearance to get opponents to underestimate it and use its pets as ambush. it still has manners though, always introducing itself to its foes politely and bowing to their desecrated corpses. With its Master, it becomes clear why it has managed to stay for so long. A quick tongue and an even quicker wit gives it a way with words that can go toe to toe with a fearsome Master who it supposedly serves. it isn't afraid to challenge its Master and question the decisions made but at the end of the day always faithfully follows through with any orders given to it like a loyal dog. it knows how to read people quite well and is a master of reading subtle cues in someone's body language, and well, no one really watches what they're talking about in front of a servant do they. Appearance: Befitting of its station, it looks quite handsome, enough that it is pleasing to look at but easily forgettable. Still quite youthful looking, it could pass off as a human in their late twenties with slightly too sharp smiles and ever listening pointed ears. Hair the colour of dried blood is interspersed with growing white, perhaps too much for one still in their vampiric prime, but rather than detract from its appearances it gives it a mature youthfulness especially when paired with pale blue eyes that seem to know all there is in the universe as its pale complexion helps blend into the drab backgrounds of the lavish gentry. Ivory skin wash out any colour on it, making the red bridge piercing stand out all the more. All this, though, is shrouded in public by a full faced mask with an eerie smile permanently carved into the unpainted, plain, and simple wood aside from the Lilly of the Valley flowers wreathing it. It is its main defining trait to the public, the Lăcrămioara who brings happiness to its lord wherever it walks. As the representative of its Master's house at the masquerade, alongside its distinctive mask, it wears a traditional Munteina dress made of lavish silk and subtly embroidered with its titlesake flowers in a thread colour just a few shades darker than the silk dress. More eyecatching are the red peonies sown alongside the seams of the cloth, matching the red cord wrapped around its neck like a collar, a bright reminder against pale skin who its true owner is. its skirt is decorated with a Pricolici fur overskirt, held up with a beaded belt of bells shaped like Lilly of the Valley Flowers, similar bells wreathing its bare ankles. A singular heavy black earring sits on its left ear, shrouded by the translucent scarf draped over its head and wrapped like a dream around its shoulders, the crystals decorated into the material forming the familiar petals of a certain bell like flower. Magic: Familiar Summoning: Certain beasts that are killed by its hand can take on corporeal form. its most loyal and easiest to summon is an ushi-oni with the head of a bovine skull and the body of a cat about the size of a full grown moose with a poisonous breath and a protective streak a mile wide. it has a small army of Strigoi and Moroi under its command making up the majority of its summons but even a complete list of its summons is unattainable even to the owner. By far the one it has the hardest time controlling, and in comparison its strongest summon is a seven eyed Căpcăun and Pricolici hybrid. Stories: Among the Țigan who have taken to calling Wallachia home, there is a forgotten story that has been left untold for years, originally passed down as a tale of hope. It goes a little like this: Once, there was a Minstrel who was one of their own, with a voice as smooth as honey and dance as resplendent as the heavens themselves. The Minstrel would dance along with their jovial tunes, the bells on sun kissed wrists ringing happiness and luck wherever the winds carried it and along with the joy that was brought with it, so did coveting eyes follow. One such was a dreaded Vetala who stalked the deserts, bewitched by the larksong of the Minstrel and in the dead of night stole the song from the body, leaving it free for the Vetala to inhabit, singing its hunting songs with alluring grace. But the spirit is strong and the Minstrel, though untethered and weak, unfailingly protected those whose blood was shared, leading them to the lands of the Moira and Strigoi where the persistent Vetala was finally dispersed under the grace of the Domnitor who Rules the Night, taking the Minstrel under his service as payment. But even as shackles were placed on our wrists, and weapons pressed against our hearts, those sweet bells will still tole for those who ask for the Minstrel. Reputation: Known as the noble slave, the Țigani has served one of the oldest and most powerful of the Romanian vampire gentry faithfully ever since its siring under mysterious circumstances. Known only by its Title "The Valley Lilly Servant", very little is actually known about it. Only that it serves its master, and only its master, with utmost loyalty. Song: Rule #34 - Forget Yourself - Fish in a Birdcage Other: It has no name. Its only defining feature are the Lilly of the Valleys on it and so that is what it's called Palpad: Ye! [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Thu, 07/11/2024 01:22 (4 Months ago) |
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"Tere, I'm Metsk Hwei. English isn't my strong suit but I'll try." He started himself, voice pitched bright and welcoming and a charming smile on his lips. "I work with meat so I'm pretty good around knives and animals, especially with other mongrels. Last thing I remember... going to bed with armastan? It was quite a normal day so I don't think I can be of any help on that front." He flashed an apologetic smile, the shine of silver peeking out from between crooked gaps in imperfect teeth. In this situation where he neither gained nor lost anything from either lying or being truthful, Metsk reckoned that telling a lie or two wouldn't be helpful in the long run. Trust, that was where it was at. And the easiest way to gain that, was by being open. So for now, Metsk would not lie. [Read more] |
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Comfygazing ONLINE Forum Posts: 767 |
Posted: Tue, 05/11/2024 00:04 (4 Months ago) |
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Just as he was about to light the paper up, already bending his head down to grip the cigarette with his teeth, Metsk finally looked up and froze when he noticed a kid no older than 12 maybe hiding under a hat. Aw man, now he really couldn't even indulge in his vices without looking like some kind of washed up loser of an adult. Well, to be fair he kind of was but that was beside the point. There were appearances to keep up, especially around kids Glumly letting the cigarette fallback down into the box, Metsk reached back to slide out the pins in his hair. Keeping his hands busy by pinning the errant mess back up into something more presentable and less like he had just rolled out of bed. Grains of sand fell out in waves as he shook his hair out, Metsk slid the pins back in place with a barely muffled yawn, nearly dropping them when one of the others began to talk. He really had to stop himself from laughing the moment the goth started talking, her sass quite infectious and he couldn't help but add on. "Well, whoever did it is an new one at best," He drawled, putting on a smile he knew had charmed others before and would continue to do so. Pretty privilege and all. "I mean, really. Letting your kidnap victims meet and talk with each other? Beginner's mistake." [Read more] |