Post by Evanthe Corvin on Aug 1, 2014 22:44:37 GMT -6
[googlefont="lobster two"]
FULL NAME:: Evanthe McCay Corvin
NICKNAMES:: Ev, Eva (ehva, not eeva), Van, Mickey, Mac – though really, if you’re allowed to call her one of these she either trusts you or introduced herself that way.
GENDER:: Female
ACTUAL AGE:: 23
APPARENT AGE:: mid to late twenties
SPECIES/RACE:: Plus
PREFERRED PRONOUNS:: she/her/hers
SEXUAL ORIENTATION:: She doesn’t care. If anyone asks she says heterosexual.
FACECLAIM:: Gemma Arterton
NATIONALITY:: American
HEIGHT:: almost 5’6”
HAIR:: Brown
EYES:: Brown
SKIN:: White
DISTINGUISHING MARKS:: Scars around her wrists and on various other body parts as the results of torture.
APPEARANCE::
She is not spectacularly tall but what she doesn’t have in height she makes up for with a nice, cold stare and a hot temper. Her hair is brunette, more medium brown than dark. It falls to just below her shoulders and is mostly straight, though sometimes it’s a bit wavy. She generally wears it up during the day so it doesn’t get in the way of her work. Other popular hairstyles are: messy bun, professional bun, simple braids.
When it comes to clothing, Eva prefers simplicity. When she’s working at the library she often wears jeans, tees, sweaters, and other comfortable, functional clothing. She has a uniform for the diner that consists of a pair of black slacks and a mint green button-up with the place’s name embroidered above the left breast pocket. Her chosen profession (or murderous hobby, if you will) requires a lot of movement, so jeans are a staple in her day-to-day life as well. Since she doesn’t want to come off as a killer of evil people, she avoids dressing in all dark colours and (unfortunately) usually avoids anything leather that isn’t a jacket.
Her shoes are always sensible in that she never wears heels or anything that could slip off running feet. Sneakers of all kinds are acceptable, where flip flops and flats are definite nos. Jewelry is also out of the question.
PERSONALITY::
She’s pretty rough around the edges. She’s fierce, vengeful, intelligent, and driven. She is drawn to those who are outside the norm and she has a soft spot for children, though it isn’t always apparent unless she wants it to be. Eva tends to avoid mingling with people, which makes her job as a waitress a very strange choice. To be fair, she does hate the job. She doesn’t even try very hard to be cheery, but she’s known the owners of the diner for a long time and they refuse to fire her.
She is capable of acting otherwise as if she enjoys the company of others. Evanthe knows how to be civil and kind and often employs these traits in random public encounters or if she thinks someone deserves it (which isn’t that often). Civility and kindness are considered to be tools in her arsenal and if she feels like she has to hide something they are two easy ways to start a cover. She is, as you might guess, very private. She’s not the type to spend a night on the town just for the fun of it. In fact, if she’s doing anything that can be seen as fun or recreational, she probably has some ulterior motives. (With the exception of going to cafés. She is a coffee junkie.)
LIKES::
DISLIKES::
STRENGTHS::
WEAKNESSES::
SECRETS:: Well, she doesn’t readily go around telling people she’s a Plus. She also doesn’t tell people she was experimented on and tortured. Or that she kills people on a regular basis.
RANK:: n/a
POWERS::
WEAKNESSES::
HOMETOWN:: Chicago, Illinois
PROFESSION:: She hunts down the people who made her life hell, but that just doesn’t pay the bills so she works part time at both the library and a ma and pop style diner (The Kinney Diner) as a waitress.
PARENTS:: “Dead”, raised by her aunt
SIBLINGS:: Her twin, Kiva. Cecil and Caris (she doesn’t know about any of them)
CHILDREN:: None.
EXTENDED FAMILY:: The aunt who raised her, Eirys Corvin.
MARITAL STATUS:: Single (doesn’t like to mingle)
HISTORY::
Some might call her life tragic; she tends to disagree.
She never knew her parents. The story was that her mother died in childbirth and her father, grief-stricken by his wife’s death, handed the baby off to his sister. He died when she wasn’t yet a year old, having drank himself to overflowing. The truth was, those two parents hadn’t existed at all. Born a twin into a family that was too busy to handle two babies at once, she was adopted by her biological mother’s sister and taken across the ocean to America, fed a story to keep her from searching out her family.
Her aunt once told her that she knew she was different from the very first day. She said she saw the earth and the sky in her eyes, felt flame and wave in her soul. But even though she saw this in her as an infant, she seemed to otherwise be a regular child. She had to be nursed, changed, and dressed. She was vulnerable, helpless.
Oh, things have changed since those sweet days of innocence and bliss.
Evanthe was seven when it happened, when she burned her aunt’s humble home down to the ground in her sleep, waking from a night-terror to find her blankets ablaze, tongues of flame licking at the walls and catching on to the curtains. They lived, her screams enough to wake the poor woman saddled with such a devilish child, giving them time to escape the house before it was engulfed.
It took the aunt another year to find her a teacher. She was a sweet woman called Brielle who had the face of an angel and the voice to match. In a way, she and Evanthe were alike: she, with her ability to grow something from nothing and the child with her horrible curse of ruin. Brielle taught her that fire was both a blessing and a weapon. It could be used to destroy or to start anew. She called her Phoenix, “One to rise from the ashes”.
As Evanthe grew, so did her power. It was erratic, strange, and unexpected. Flame became her life, overrunning her with stress, always fearing that she would destroy something else she loved.
Of course it happened. Brielle was a tender hearted soul, powerful with earth magic, but she could not save herself from Evanthe. She would always remember the first who died at her hands because of her inability to control her temper.
It happened, she learned, she moved on.
It wasn’t until she was 13 that they found her. She was relieved. They came with kind smiles and so much more information than she could ever ask for. They called her special, explained her powers to her in a way she had never been exposed to. She learned about the elements and their power, the magic they held. The flames were nature in the palms of her hands, running through her veins with thrumming energy she never fully realised until then.
It was in their ‘care’ that she came to possess more power. It took years for her to notice what they were doing. She was seventeen then, more than old enough to think for herself. She started questioning, pushing limits. And one day those limits pushed right back.
She found out they’d been experimenting, that they’d tampered with both body and mind, editing her into something different than what she’d been born. Something more, something wrong. Such power over fire was never meant to be held by a mortal, yet was forced upon her by those that called themselves the Faceless.
Once she knew about them, about their real agenda, they spent years trying to break her. They chained and tortured her, using the very same thing that made her who she was to bring her to the brink of death and back. Again and again.
And again.
Until finally there was mercy. Evanthe was dead. They were sure of it, stored her body away on a freezer slab. She woke there, dazed and confused. She was absolutely terrified but she knew one thing: she had to get out of there.
It wasn’t long before the door was opened, the tray pulled out and her body placed on the autopsy table — they had information to record after all. They didn’t want to have to start from scratch. When the attendant’s back was turned, Evanthe struck. Their screams echoed through the halls behind her as she ran, manoeuvring easily through the halls she’d called home for seven long years.
Her first breath of fresh outside air was made by twenty year old lungs.
In the three years since then, she has killed many. She feels no remorse. She hunts the Faceless, they who prey on the innocent with candy smiles and talon fingers.
OOC NAME:: Kenny
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE:: 5 some years.
ANY NOTES:: Not today!
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:: No, please, stop! Please you’re hurting me!
{ Evanthe McCay Corvin }
FULL NAME:: Evanthe McCay Corvin
NICKNAMES:: Ev, Eva (ehva, not eeva), Van, Mickey, Mac – though really, if you’re allowed to call her one of these she either trusts you or introduced herself that way.
GENDER:: Female
ACTUAL AGE:: 23
APPARENT AGE:: mid to late twenties
SPECIES/RACE:: Plus
PREFERRED PRONOUNS:: she/her/hers
SEXUAL ORIENTATION:: She doesn’t care. If anyone asks she says heterosexual.
{ APPEARANCE } |
FACECLAIM:: Gemma Arterton
NATIONALITY:: American
HEIGHT:: almost 5’6”
HAIR:: Brown
EYES:: Brown
SKIN:: White
DISTINGUISHING MARKS:: Scars around her wrists and on various other body parts as the results of torture.
APPEARANCE::
She is not spectacularly tall but what she doesn’t have in height she makes up for with a nice, cold stare and a hot temper. Her hair is brunette, more medium brown than dark. It falls to just below her shoulders and is mostly straight, though sometimes it’s a bit wavy. She generally wears it up during the day so it doesn’t get in the way of her work. Other popular hairstyles are: messy bun, professional bun, simple braids.
When it comes to clothing, Eva prefers simplicity. When she’s working at the library she often wears jeans, tees, sweaters, and other comfortable, functional clothing. She has a uniform for the diner that consists of a pair of black slacks and a mint green button-up with the place’s name embroidered above the left breast pocket. Her chosen profession (or murderous hobby, if you will) requires a lot of movement, so jeans are a staple in her day-to-day life as well. Since she doesn’t want to come off as a killer of evil people, she avoids dressing in all dark colours and (unfortunately) usually avoids anything leather that isn’t a jacket.
Her shoes are always sensible in that she never wears heels or anything that could slip off running feet. Sneakers of all kinds are acceptable, where flip flops and flats are definite nos. Jewelry is also out of the question.
{ PERSONALITY } |
PERSONALITY::
She’s pretty rough around the edges. She’s fierce, vengeful, intelligent, and driven. She is drawn to those who are outside the norm and she has a soft spot for children, though it isn’t always apparent unless she wants it to be. Eva tends to avoid mingling with people, which makes her job as a waitress a very strange choice. To be fair, she does hate the job. She doesn’t even try very hard to be cheery, but she’s known the owners of the diner for a long time and they refuse to fire her.
She is capable of acting otherwise as if she enjoys the company of others. Evanthe knows how to be civil and kind and often employs these traits in random public encounters or if she thinks someone deserves it (which isn’t that often). Civility and kindness are considered to be tools in her arsenal and if she feels like she has to hide something they are two easy ways to start a cover. She is, as you might guess, very private. She’s not the type to spend a night on the town just for the fun of it. In fact, if she’s doing anything that can be seen as fun or recreational, she probably has some ulterior motives. (With the exception of going to cafés. She is a coffee junkie.)
LIKES::
- Hazelnut macchiato
- Iced caffé mocha
- Peppermint mocha
- Caffé americano
- Caffé misto
DISLIKES::
- Tea
- Doughnuts
- Annoying people
- Trashy romance novels
- People who spill food in library books
STRENGTHS::
- Strong-willed
- Driven
- Focussed
- Confident
- Clever
WEAKNESSES::
- Hot tempered
- Not a team player
- Holds grudges
- Sometimes has ‘tunnel vision’
- Distrusting
SECRETS:: Well, she doesn’t readily go around telling people she’s a Plus. She also doesn’t tell people she was experimented on and tortured. Or that she kills people on a regular basis.
{ RACIAL SPECIFICS } |
RANK:: n/a
POWERS::
- Can literally make fire
- Can wield said fire
- Can do so in various ways, i.e. making things/people combust, throwing “fireballs”, and making a nice fire in the fireplace.
WEAKNESSES::
- Mortality
- Susceptible to illness
- Water, while not a weakness to her as a person, is capable of extinguishing flames and thus can be used against her to make her power less effective.
{ BACKGROUND } |
HOMETOWN:: Chicago, Illinois
PROFESSION:: She hunts down the people who made her life hell, but that just doesn’t pay the bills so she works part time at both the library and a ma and pop style diner (The Kinney Diner) as a waitress.
PARENTS:: “Dead”, raised by her aunt
SIBLINGS:: Her twin, Kiva. Cecil and Caris (she doesn’t know about any of them)
CHILDREN:: None.
EXTENDED FAMILY:: The aunt who raised her, Eirys Corvin.
MARITAL STATUS:: Single (doesn’t like to mingle)
HISTORY::
Some might call her life tragic; she tends to disagree.
She never knew her parents. The story was that her mother died in childbirth and her father, grief-stricken by his wife’s death, handed the baby off to his sister. He died when she wasn’t yet a year old, having drank himself to overflowing. The truth was, those two parents hadn’t existed at all. Born a twin into a family that was too busy to handle two babies at once, she was adopted by her biological mother’s sister and taken across the ocean to America, fed a story to keep her from searching out her family.
Her aunt once told her that she knew she was different from the very first day. She said she saw the earth and the sky in her eyes, felt flame and wave in her soul. But even though she saw this in her as an infant, she seemed to otherwise be a regular child. She had to be nursed, changed, and dressed. She was vulnerable, helpless.
Oh, things have changed since those sweet days of innocence and bliss.
Evanthe was seven when it happened, when she burned her aunt’s humble home down to the ground in her sleep, waking from a night-terror to find her blankets ablaze, tongues of flame licking at the walls and catching on to the curtains. They lived, her screams enough to wake the poor woman saddled with such a devilish child, giving them time to escape the house before it was engulfed.
It took the aunt another year to find her a teacher. She was a sweet woman called Brielle who had the face of an angel and the voice to match. In a way, she and Evanthe were alike: she, with her ability to grow something from nothing and the child with her horrible curse of ruin. Brielle taught her that fire was both a blessing and a weapon. It could be used to destroy or to start anew. She called her Phoenix, “One to rise from the ashes”.
As Evanthe grew, so did her power. It was erratic, strange, and unexpected. Flame became her life, overrunning her with stress, always fearing that she would destroy something else she loved.
Of course it happened. Brielle was a tender hearted soul, powerful with earth magic, but she could not save herself from Evanthe. She would always remember the first who died at her hands because of her inability to control her temper.
It happened, she learned, she moved on.
It wasn’t until she was 13 that they found her. She was relieved. They came with kind smiles and so much more information than she could ever ask for. They called her special, explained her powers to her in a way she had never been exposed to. She learned about the elements and their power, the magic they held. The flames were nature in the palms of her hands, running through her veins with thrumming energy she never fully realised until then.
It was in their ‘care’ that she came to possess more power. It took years for her to notice what they were doing. She was seventeen then, more than old enough to think for herself. She started questioning, pushing limits. And one day those limits pushed right back.
She found out they’d been experimenting, that they’d tampered with both body and mind, editing her into something different than what she’d been born. Something more, something wrong. Such power over fire was never meant to be held by a mortal, yet was forced upon her by those that called themselves the Faceless.
Once she knew about them, about their real agenda, they spent years trying to break her. They chained and tortured her, using the very same thing that made her who she was to bring her to the brink of death and back. Again and again.
And again.
Until finally there was mercy. Evanthe was dead. They were sure of it, stored her body away on a freezer slab. She woke there, dazed and confused. She was absolutely terrified but she knew one thing: she had to get out of there.
It wasn’t long before the door was opened, the tray pulled out and her body placed on the autopsy table — they had information to record after all. They didn’t want to have to start from scratch. When the attendant’s back was turned, Evanthe struck. Their screams echoed through the halls behind her as she ran, manoeuvring easily through the halls she’d called home for seven long years.
Her first breath of fresh outside air was made by twenty year old lungs.
In the three years since then, she has killed many. She feels no remorse. She hunts the Faceless, they who prey on the innocent with candy smiles and talon fingers.
{ OUT OF CHARACTER } |
OOC NAME:: Kenny
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE:: 5 some years.
ANY NOTES:: Not today!
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:: No, please, stop! Please you’re hurting me!
