Re: QUIETUS [S!5] [Sign-ups]
03-28-2012, 05:35 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Florica Hearn
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Text Colour: # 797979
Biography: Florica was born and raised a member of the Iviel; a tribe of nomads. One of her earliest memories is sat upon the back of her family’s caravan one warm summer evening, looking out across the sea of near identical carriages as they slowly were drawn across the plains. They rarely stayed in one place very long and they had little to no contact with the rest of the world. Florica saw the beauty in the world in a way that many of the other kids did not. She was always keen to leave the confines of the Iviel camp and explore the wondrous places she found herself in.
One foggy day, when Florica was sixteen, they stopped beneath an enormous tree by a lake. The tree’s branches hung limp and low over the camp, decorated with the first blossoms of spring. It would have been a pretty ordinary day, in a not exactly extraordinary place if it were not for the song, the incredible music that washed over the camp. Florica can still remember that music to this day; its mournful melody is one that she feels has never truly left her. Florica left the camp on her own, as she had done many times before, there was no reason for anyone to worry about her, not until it was getting dark and she had still not returned from her exploration.
Her parents discovered her body the following day, floating face down in the murky lake. She was sopping wet, her clothes were torn and weeds clung to her hair. Her neck had been snapped. Her body was brought back to the camp and was to be buried under the branches of the sprawling willow tree when before the hole had even been dug she started coughing up water. Somehow she was still alive; cold and wet and confused but still alive. The last thing she remembered, at least the last thing she claimed to remember, was leaving the camp.
The encounter changed her; almost overnight she became more introverted, more withdrawn. She seemed to shun those who she had previously called her friends in favour of quiet solitude in the shade, where she would sit and quietly hum that tune as she blankly gazed out upon the world. Even her family found her to be cold, to be distant. Sometimes she would still leave the camp, though the goal was no longer exploration and the motivation was no longer a curiosity about the world. The first time it happened again her family were terrified. They scoured the surrounding shrubland looking for her, only to find her sat by some old gravestones. Eventually they got used to this, whenever she was found to be gone, she would invariably be found at the nearest grave.
Though years passed she remained the same. Her presence alone made the other members of her tribe feel ill at ease. She was no longer the girl that they had grown up with, she was practically a stranger; an outcast amongst her own people. As soon as she was old enough she left the tribe. Initially she made her way to Ironbrook, the largest city in the land. She did not last a single day in that place. She began to travel alone, never staying in the same place twice and never staying in any community larger than a small village.
Sometimes she would happen across other travellers or those who wished to do her harm. She would fight for her own survival and she would prove to be pretty good for someone who never had training in combat. Sometimes she would take that which did not belong to her, but only what she needed to stay alive. Perhaps the most notable thing about this time was that no matter how vicious or violent those she fought were, no matter what they would have done to her given the upper hand, she never killed anyone.
Items/Abilities: Florica can speak to the dead, or rather should I say Florica cannot help but speak to the dead. Whatever happened upon that lake changed her permanently; wherever she was the spirits of those who had died there would flock to her like moths to a flame, and she found herself unable not to hear their pleas. She does not consider this ability to be a gift, but a curse, and for good reason. Certain spirits, those whose deaths were particularly bloody or those who have business that remains unresolved, can exert a certain influence upon her. The strongest of these spirits can compel her to carry out actions she does not wish to. They can and most likely will use her as a puppet.
In combat she tends to move as though she is dancing to an inaudible tune. She has on her person concealed daggers and a couple of throwing knifes, but she prefers to fight with her fists and her feet; less chance to accidentally kill someone. She is quick, agile and deceptively strong. She also has to her advantage the fact that she does not look like someone who could hold her own in a fight. She is often underestimated.
Description:
Florica has long curly black hair and dull grey eyes, her skin is unnaturally pale. She wears a black and white dress that goes down to her shins and sandals. Black veils hang loosely around her body, helping conceal the daggers and the knives on her person. She is moderately attractive but there is a certain hollowness in her eyes that underwrites this beauty. She never smiles.
She is very quiet and withdrawn; she barely speaks to anyone and is more often than not to be heard humming a maudlin tune. Though she is not exactly pacifistic she would be extremely opposed to killing someone and would try anything rather than doing so. That said if killing someone was the only way that she could stay alive, she would do so unflinchingly. She usually prefers not to get involved but generally she does not have a choice.
Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Florica Hearn
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Text Colour: # 797979
Biography: Florica was born and raised a member of the Iviel; a tribe of nomads. One of her earliest memories is sat upon the back of her family’s caravan one warm summer evening, looking out across the sea of near identical carriages as they slowly were drawn across the plains. They rarely stayed in one place very long and they had little to no contact with the rest of the world. Florica saw the beauty in the world in a way that many of the other kids did not. She was always keen to leave the confines of the Iviel camp and explore the wondrous places she found herself in.
One foggy day, when Florica was sixteen, they stopped beneath an enormous tree by a lake. The tree’s branches hung limp and low over the camp, decorated with the first blossoms of spring. It would have been a pretty ordinary day, in a not exactly extraordinary place if it were not for the song, the incredible music that washed over the camp. Florica can still remember that music to this day; its mournful melody is one that she feels has never truly left her. Florica left the camp on her own, as she had done many times before, there was no reason for anyone to worry about her, not until it was getting dark and she had still not returned from her exploration.
Her parents discovered her body the following day, floating face down in the murky lake. She was sopping wet, her clothes were torn and weeds clung to her hair. Her neck had been snapped. Her body was brought back to the camp and was to be buried under the branches of the sprawling willow tree when before the hole had even been dug she started coughing up water. Somehow she was still alive; cold and wet and confused but still alive. The last thing she remembered, at least the last thing she claimed to remember, was leaving the camp.
The encounter changed her; almost overnight she became more introverted, more withdrawn. She seemed to shun those who she had previously called her friends in favour of quiet solitude in the shade, where she would sit and quietly hum that tune as she blankly gazed out upon the world. Even her family found her to be cold, to be distant. Sometimes she would still leave the camp, though the goal was no longer exploration and the motivation was no longer a curiosity about the world. The first time it happened again her family were terrified. They scoured the surrounding shrubland looking for her, only to find her sat by some old gravestones. Eventually they got used to this, whenever she was found to be gone, she would invariably be found at the nearest grave.
Though years passed she remained the same. Her presence alone made the other members of her tribe feel ill at ease. She was no longer the girl that they had grown up with, she was practically a stranger; an outcast amongst her own people. As soon as she was old enough she left the tribe. Initially she made her way to Ironbrook, the largest city in the land. She did not last a single day in that place. She began to travel alone, never staying in the same place twice and never staying in any community larger than a small village.
Sometimes she would happen across other travellers or those who wished to do her harm. She would fight for her own survival and she would prove to be pretty good for someone who never had training in combat. Sometimes she would take that which did not belong to her, but only what she needed to stay alive. Perhaps the most notable thing about this time was that no matter how vicious or violent those she fought were, no matter what they would have done to her given the upper hand, she never killed anyone.
Items/Abilities: Florica can speak to the dead, or rather should I say Florica cannot help but speak to the dead. Whatever happened upon that lake changed her permanently; wherever she was the spirits of those who had died there would flock to her like moths to a flame, and she found herself unable not to hear their pleas. She does not consider this ability to be a gift, but a curse, and for good reason. Certain spirits, those whose deaths were particularly bloody or those who have business that remains unresolved, can exert a certain influence upon her. The strongest of these spirits can compel her to carry out actions she does not wish to. They can and most likely will use her as a puppet.
In combat she tends to move as though she is dancing to an inaudible tune. She has on her person concealed daggers and a couple of throwing knifes, but she prefers to fight with her fists and her feet; less chance to accidentally kill someone. She is quick, agile and deceptively strong. She also has to her advantage the fact that she does not look like someone who could hold her own in a fight. She is often underestimated.
Description:
![[Image: florica.png]](https://i699.photobucket.com/albums/vv360/Ixcaliber/florica.png)
Florica has long curly black hair and dull grey eyes, her skin is unnaturally pale. She wears a black and white dress that goes down to her shins and sandals. Black veils hang loosely around her body, helping conceal the daggers and the knives on her person. She is moderately attractive but there is a certain hollowness in her eyes that underwrites this beauty. She never smiles.
She is very quiet and withdrawn; she barely speaks to anyone and is more often than not to be heard humming a maudlin tune. Though she is not exactly pacifistic she would be extremely opposed to killing someone and would try anything rather than doing so. That said if killing someone was the only way that she could stay alive, she would do so unflinchingly. She usually prefers not to get involved but generally she does not have a choice.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You