Post by Hunter Vincent Cataliades on Jul 14, 2010 19:36:59 GMT -5
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HELLO MY NAME IS HUNTER VINCENT CATALIADES (RAHOVART) AND I AM NINETEEN YEARS OLD. I'M A DAIMON AND RANK AS GUARDIAN TO THE GATES OF HELL AND MY HUMAN BODY WAS BORN ON JANUARY 5th, 1990 IN ATLANTA, GEORGIA. MY NATIONALITY IS AMERICAN. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE DAVIDJKN. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM ORGANIZED, HOT-HEADED, VICIOUS, BOASTFUL, COLD, HEARTLESS, BLINDED BY HATRED. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY karma!CODEWORD: ivory
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:
Stupid, foolish girl.
Rahovart spoke of Subterfuge, as he lurked below the sandy shore, his fingers scraping across the ceiling of the earth, before he emerged, pushing past the sand in a deafening screech, the metal of the boat collapsing in on itself as it finally made it's stop on Ivory. He knew it was to happen, waiting for it to do so anxiously for their deaths to come like a child for chirstmas. He wondered, just for a second, what was keeping him here and why he had come: so far, he had only come to blame the daimon of Deceit for the business that needed to be attended to up there. Truly, he didn't mind these occasional leaves to the surface world, though one couldn't say he enjoyed them. Curses filled his mind, couple with the image of the female daimon.
People were watching, gathering around like stupid rabbits around the crash, mouths agape and eyes ogling idiotically, as if it wasn't obvious what had happened. He heard the sound of their hands push past the briney-metal and the silence of his heart as it skipped a beat, his blood given a quick jolt of life as it pumped rapidly through him. He looked down at a puddle of blood, using it as an odd maroon mirror, an image of himself painted in crimson. He smiled; a face only a place like hell could love, running his sharp fingernails about the metal zipper that resided on his face. A stray nail scratched roughly against the red, burnt side of his face, making a sould like nails on a chalkboard. Looking through his teal eyes, he saw nothing wrong himself, but he knew the humans would think diffrent, and he had to find a vessel quickly.
The daimon's head turned about the crashed ship, looking about the people, blood flowing freely from their metal mangled body, riddled in their own filth. He could hear them, hearing rigor mortis make her sweet way through their bodies, stiffening their dead bodies and tightening their limbs, straight as mannequins. He picked up on one heartbeat in that humid little scrap heat, and he made his way over to it. A boy, no younger than seventeen, looked at him with glazed eyes, blood trickling from his mouth a his lips. He wasn't too bad looking, either, thought Rahovart as he scanned over him, even with all the blood. He placed a hand on the boy's chest, studying his heart beats, his breaths, his blood trickling through his vein and out his body. He felt much like Rahovart's own personality, but with more human emotions, like love and compassion and stupidity...it made him sick. He had to admit he wasn't smart himself, but now wasn't the time to examine his faults: He needed a body, and a body fast. He just needed to make a little...adjustments.
"I'm not about to be ruled by a simple teenager.", he said coldly, eyes glaring. Hunter smiled a bit, not understanding what was happening. His eyes rolled over to the corpses of his brother, his sister, his father, his mother. Tears welled up in his blue eyes, and he cried out all the mistakes he'd done and the ignorance that had lcouded his mind. His fingers ran over the daimons rough face, as if expecting hope, god. The daimon shook his head, laughing at the pathetic final words. "God?!", Rahovart laughed, teasing his new vessel, just another soul to be taken from this world. "No...No god...No god here."
His hands descended upon his throat, gripping a blade, stabbing it into Hunter's quivering body. He couldn't bring himself to let out the screams he needed to release; he didn't have enough energy anymore. He could only let out those small little yelps, as the air and blood left his body. He fell limp, his body twitching as he finally decided to succumb to death. The shifting of metal against metal sounded. I need to get in hiding, quick, thought the daimon. Hunter was seeing other things; the stereotypical things, the hall with the white doorway at the end, heavenly light. The light suddenly turned a shade of red, as he felt their souls merge on his last heartbeat, his last breath. Hunter had died, and Rahovart had taken over his body, like a puppet. He was in control.
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