Post by Xylia Tsardikos on Apr 6, 2014 11:15:03 GMT -8
XYLIA GAEA TSARDIKOS
* Full Name: Xylia Gaea Tsardikos
* Age: 22
* Gender: Female
* Species: human
* Sexuality: lesbian
* What region would you like to live in? Eryxian Region
* Eyes: brown
* Hair: black
* Birthmark: none
* Distinguishing Features: none
* Play By: Aqua Parios
* Personality: On the outset, Xylia may seem dull, and that's how she likes it. She doesn't like to attract attention to herself. Shy and introverted, she nonetheless harbors a staunch resistance to authority and is known to abandon her responsibilities to pursue her whims. She can be spontaneous and carefree as the wind, and even assertive at times, but more often than not she'd rather dip her toes in the water and watch flower petals float by.
Her primary method of dealing with conflict is to run away from it or evade it if she can, rather than dealing with it up front, but she's more than capable of the latter and has gotten into situations in over her head before. Thankfully, though, she never gets into real trouble, avoiding her greatest fear: pregnancy.
* What do you look for in a spouse? a heartbeat. tenderness. a rebellious streak.
* Likes: long hair, lilacs, swimming, exploring
* Dislikes: authority, gods, demigods
* What color hair and eyes would you prefer? no preference whatsoever
* Turn-ons and offs:
ON: when girls bat their eyelashes, bare shoulders, whispers
OFF: dry skin, arrogance
ON: when girls bat their eyelashes, bare shoulders, whispers
OFF: dry skin, arrogance
* Family: Acacia, mother. Pericles, father. Orion, brother.
* Pets: none
* Anything Else: nope
* History: Though her brother, Orion, was the younger of the two, Xylia always felt as though she were growing up in his shadow, his parents caring more for his accomplishes and paying for his schooling while she was expected to stay home and do her chores without complaint. And while that would have been fine by her, she was constantly brought up on and surrounded by the expectation that she would one day be married off to a man -- and she'd already realized at a young age that all her love was only for women.
So far, she's managed to put it off and remain unmarried for an unusual length of time, partly though making herself seem as inept at keeping house as possible and dissuading any suitors. That's fine for now, and she believes she's resilient and resourceful enough to make do on her own without a husband, but what she really hopes for, one day, is for the fates to bring her together with a true love of her own.
* Name: Arrow
* Age: probably
* Where did you hear about us?: Saturn
* Rp Sample:
He was lucky to be alive. After the attack, he'd passed out on his own floor, covered in bites and bleeding out into the straw. When he awoke, his wounds were scabbed over and his clothes were crusty with blood. The pain had worsened, but he'd survived the night. At first, this gave him hope, hope of recovering to slay the monster and ensure the safety of the village -- he knew what she was, for certain now, and this time he'd gather help, surround her residence and have her hanged -- and for reassurance he reached for his silver talisman.
He'd forgotten the bites. He'd forgotten what he knew. He'd forgotten, somehow, in his rush of relief at being alive, what kind of monster he was dealing with. He jerked his hand away, the silver having burned against his flesh like flame.
His heart jumped and he snapped his eyes onto the piece, scrambling back in disbelief, but he saw no fire, no venomous insect, nothing else to explain the burning in his skin. This could only mean one thing, but-- How could this be? How could he have let this happen? He placed his arms on his overturned oak chest and slowly pulled himself to his feet, sweeping his eyes over the broken stool, the ripped straw mattress, and the scattered candles. He should have known what would happen the moment he was bitten. He should have known all this would happen. He should have been ready.
As soon as it became obvious that the newest member of the village was no innocent human, he'd begun preparing for a confrontation, but he hadn't expected the beast to break into his dwelling that same night. It hadn't even been the night of the full moon. It wasn't unheard of for werewolves to transform at will, but-- He kicked the broken stool away, bent down again with his elbows on the chest, and clutched at his forehead, his veins throbbing. He'd been foolish, and he'd been weak, and now... now what was he to do? What would happen on the night of the full moon? Would... would it hurt?
Afraid for himself and unsure what to do, he longed for guidance. As much as he would have liked to kill the beast who had done this to him, he had too many questions. Maybe there was a way to control this condition or prevent himself from hurting anyone. Maybe... maybe there was a way to make sure it didn't hurt. He was ashamed of his cowardly thoughts, and the village would be better off without him now, he was certain, but having come so close to death only hours ago, he was too shaken and afraid to commit to its embrace. His life, his mission, had been so clear before. Now he knew not where to turn -- save to the only other being in the village sure to have answers. More than anything, he needed a way to cope.
Clutching his side, he made his way to the door and removed the barricade before heading out into town, still wearing his filthy tunic. A few of the other villagers greeted him good day, and his responses to them were flat and hollow, lifeless echoes of the standard greeting. His mind was fixed on his new wretched state and the dangers he posed to each man, woman, and child within the village borders. He couldn't look anyone in the eye as he passed.
The air was cold and crisp with the change of the seasons and a restless breeze pressed at his back as he crossed the bridge over the river. The village square and its surrounding farms hugged the clearing by the riverbanks, where sunlight sparkled on the running water, but beyond that, the giant pines kept the land in shadow. Before, he'd never thought about the woods as much else but a source of timber and the breeding ground of woodland creatures. Now he belonged there as much as any other beast. Maybe he'd go there tonight, try to get eaten by a bear, or get lost and never come back.
When at last, trudging to the entrance, Maddock reached the house where she was staying, he raised a rough hand to the door and gave a knock. He'd come unarmed on purpose. She'd recognize him as the man who'd been trying to kill her, no doubt, and he didn't want to look like that's what he'd come here to do. When she opened her door, she'd find the very same short, dark man she'd attacked last night. He was bloody and sore, but otherwise the same -- with a bearded broad jaw and a thick, protruding nose and thick hands that had slain many a creature before her.
He'd forgotten the bites. He'd forgotten what he knew. He'd forgotten, somehow, in his rush of relief at being alive, what kind of monster he was dealing with. He jerked his hand away, the silver having burned against his flesh like flame.
His heart jumped and he snapped his eyes onto the piece, scrambling back in disbelief, but he saw no fire, no venomous insect, nothing else to explain the burning in his skin. This could only mean one thing, but-- How could this be? How could he have let this happen? He placed his arms on his overturned oak chest and slowly pulled himself to his feet, sweeping his eyes over the broken stool, the ripped straw mattress, and the scattered candles. He should have known what would happen the moment he was bitten. He should have known all this would happen. He should have been ready.
As soon as it became obvious that the newest member of the village was no innocent human, he'd begun preparing for a confrontation, but he hadn't expected the beast to break into his dwelling that same night. It hadn't even been the night of the full moon. It wasn't unheard of for werewolves to transform at will, but-- He kicked the broken stool away, bent down again with his elbows on the chest, and clutched at his forehead, his veins throbbing. He'd been foolish, and he'd been weak, and now... now what was he to do? What would happen on the night of the full moon? Would... would it hurt?
Afraid for himself and unsure what to do, he longed for guidance. As much as he would have liked to kill the beast who had done this to him, he had too many questions. Maybe there was a way to control this condition or prevent himself from hurting anyone. Maybe... maybe there was a way to make sure it didn't hurt. He was ashamed of his cowardly thoughts, and the village would be better off without him now, he was certain, but having come so close to death only hours ago, he was too shaken and afraid to commit to its embrace. His life, his mission, had been so clear before. Now he knew not where to turn -- save to the only other being in the village sure to have answers. More than anything, he needed a way to cope.
Clutching his side, he made his way to the door and removed the barricade before heading out into town, still wearing his filthy tunic. A few of the other villagers greeted him good day, and his responses to them were flat and hollow, lifeless echoes of the standard greeting. His mind was fixed on his new wretched state and the dangers he posed to each man, woman, and child within the village borders. He couldn't look anyone in the eye as he passed.
The air was cold and crisp with the change of the seasons and a restless breeze pressed at his back as he crossed the bridge over the river. The village square and its surrounding farms hugged the clearing by the riverbanks, where sunlight sparkled on the running water, but beyond that, the giant pines kept the land in shadow. Before, he'd never thought about the woods as much else but a source of timber and the breeding ground of woodland creatures. Now he belonged there as much as any other beast. Maybe he'd go there tonight, try to get eaten by a bear, or get lost and never come back.
When at last, trudging to the entrance, Maddock reached the house where she was staying, he raised a rough hand to the door and gave a knock. He'd come unarmed on purpose. She'd recognize him as the man who'd been trying to kill her, no doubt, and he didn't want to look like that's what he'd come here to do. When she opened her door, she'd find the very same short, dark man she'd attacked last night. He was bloody and sore, but otherwise the same -- with a bearded broad jaw and a thick, protruding nose and thick hands that had slain many a creature before her.
The credits YO!.
This was all made by Cvdude86, You steal, I will hunt you down, and fucking beat you to the ground.