RE: The Grand OC SII: The Re-OCening: Week 26: SANGUINE!
06-22-2017, 06:10 AM
Username: Schyraz
Name: Zin Fandell
Species: Human
Gender: She's a hot mess
Color: The Vintner's Luck
Biography: Zin grew up in a travelling band of entertainers, finding her place in concert halls and old amphitheaters where her voice rang out and summoned the townsfolk of the troupe's latest stop for a night of entertainment. Zin's operatic tones could enthrall audiences filled to standing-room only, and the sound of her practicing on the road was the quiet delight of many in her troupe.
One fateful night on an outdoor stage, after the guests had gone home and Zin had the stage to herself, something heard her practicing and called from the moonlit seating to continue. Zin, gripped with fear but knowing better than to refuse the requests of one of the Revelry, sang to the tune on the Reveller's flute, and couldn't stop until the sun arrived to chase the stars from the sky, and the Revelry from the arena.
The first Reveller praised her for a job well done, but her reluctant thanks were water in her throat and she threatened to drown. It was only after days spent mute and terrified did Zin dare to raise her voice again. The prose still splashed and choked her, but words put to music were rich and thick enough to cling to her throat, rising to where she might safely swallow them. It was intoxicating - both literally and figuratively.
Her relief was short-lived when she saw the effect it had had on her family. Too riotous in their celebration that Zin's voice returned. Too loud, too jovial. The quartermaster, a belligerent drunk and firm teetotaller, threw up and punched the stagehand who whooped at his display.
Zin performed rarely after that - often only at her parents' behest, to loosen up a tough crowd - and she didn't practice around the troupe anymore. After one troupe meeting where it was discussed if she were obliged to sing, to save the coin otherwise spent on drink, Zin had had enough and stole away in the night.
Zin survived performing here and there, stealing from insensate patrons (well gone past sober herself) before she could be tied down to one place.
Description: Zin is dressed like a traveller, wearing simple armor and enough layers to keep her most important possessions close to her person. There's a knife at one hip and a book at the other, the first half of which is filled with pictures, diagrams, and simple phrases, the back half kept blank for future discussion. Her hair's dirty brown, cut short and badly. In a sturdy attache are several fine dresses, a long wig, and portable makeup table. She smells permanently of alcohol.
Items/Abilities: Zin's singing can cause intoxication and a serious need to party hard in those who hear it, with apparent disregard for differing biology (it's worked on things she's pretty sure would die if they drunk alcohol). Like all shitty blessings, it obviously gets her drunk as well. She's built up a tolerance, for however much that counts.
Name: Zin Fandell
Species: Human
Gender: She's a hot mess
Color: The Vintner's Luck
Biography: Zin grew up in a travelling band of entertainers, finding her place in concert halls and old amphitheaters where her voice rang out and summoned the townsfolk of the troupe's latest stop for a night of entertainment. Zin's operatic tones could enthrall audiences filled to standing-room only, and the sound of her practicing on the road was the quiet delight of many in her troupe.
One fateful night on an outdoor stage, after the guests had gone home and Zin had the stage to herself, something heard her practicing and called from the moonlit seating to continue. Zin, gripped with fear but knowing better than to refuse the requests of one of the Revelry, sang to the tune on the Reveller's flute, and couldn't stop until the sun arrived to chase the stars from the sky, and the Revelry from the arena.
The first Reveller praised her for a job well done, but her reluctant thanks were water in her throat and she threatened to drown. It was only after days spent mute and terrified did Zin dare to raise her voice again. The prose still splashed and choked her, but words put to music were rich and thick enough to cling to her throat, rising to where she might safely swallow them. It was intoxicating - both literally and figuratively.
Her relief was short-lived when she saw the effect it had had on her family. Too riotous in their celebration that Zin's voice returned. Too loud, too jovial. The quartermaster, a belligerent drunk and firm teetotaller, threw up and punched the stagehand who whooped at his display.
Zin performed rarely after that - often only at her parents' behest, to loosen up a tough crowd - and she didn't practice around the troupe anymore. After one troupe meeting where it was discussed if she were obliged to sing, to save the coin otherwise spent on drink, Zin had had enough and stole away in the night.
Zin survived performing here and there, stealing from insensate patrons (well gone past sober herself) before she could be tied down to one place.
Description: Zin is dressed like a traveller, wearing simple armor and enough layers to keep her most important possessions close to her person. There's a knife at one hip and a book at the other, the first half of which is filled with pictures, diagrams, and simple phrases, the back half kept blank for future discussion. Her hair's dirty brown, cut short and badly. In a sturdy attache are several fine dresses, a long wig, and portable makeup table. She smells permanently of alcohol.
Items/Abilities: Zin's singing can cause intoxication and a serious need to party hard in those who hear it, with apparent disregard for differing biology (it's worked on things she's pretty sure would die if they drunk alcohol). Like all shitty blessings, it obviously gets her drunk as well. She's built up a tolerance, for however much that counts.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow