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fetishfuel) wrote2013-09-17 12:52 pm
fetishfuel) wrote2013-09-17 12:52 pm
application for demeleier
Player Name: seki
Player DW:gasmask
Contact: thoughtcrime @ plurk
Character Number: first (sort of?!)
Character: Damara Megido
Source: Homestuck
Appearance: Damara is a tiny little troll-- meaning she has grey skin, yellow sclera with red iris, candy corn colored ram horns on her head, and black hair. She keeps her hair in a bun. Fanart.
History: Here!
Timeline: 007299
Personality: Damara cares for very little, seeking to crush or ruin most everything. She is a hurt person, but that's hard to see past her anger. Her anger is what drives her; what pushes her to do as she does. And make no mistake, any kindness she shows is a farce.
The world is not to be trusted, not a single little bit of it: there is no rest past death, there is no happily ever after, there is no such thing as a faithful lover. Damara has learned these things through experience, and has etched them into her heart's walls-- her very existence. She believes in these as single grains of truth in an hourglass filled with sand.
She hates everyone around her.
The "friends" she has spent an eternity with in the afterlife, the people who pass through dream bubbles while they sleep: she hates every single one of them, and with a passion usually reserved for things either very vile or very cruel. She goes so far as to express desire to join a villain's efforts in destroying literally everything. She wants everything that has ever hurt her to disappear as though it never existed at all. She genuinely wants that.
Damara used to be very violent. After her death, she doesn't ease up on that. She can't actually do anyone any harm as a ghost, which frustrates her to another degree, but it does cause her to get a little creative with her tormenting methods. She picks up on their difficulty with her heavy accent, exaggerates it, and turns into a nonstop torrent of vicious, sexually explicit nonsense. She does it partially because it's funny, but mostly because it makes people uncomfortable. Which is exactly what she wants.
But there is another thing: Damara wasn't always so spiteful and angry. She used to be demure, kind, genuinely sweet. The transformation into the person she is today was a very quick snap. Her teammate, Meenah, treated her like shit to start with. She was mild, and Meenah was not, and they butted heads fairly often. But it wasn't until Meenah talked shit about Damara's nasty breakup that she lost it.
Her and Rufioh had been together happily, but he cheated on her. She had been so deeply in love that it wrecked her. It hurt more than anything else ever did. So for Meenah to smear the precious memories she had, to shit on her pain... that lead into a murderous, time traveling rampage. She goes so far as to kill her friends in doomed timelines and damns them all to failure.
Burned as she was, picking at the scabs of her recovery left disfiguring scars and never-healing wounds: her current personality.
Abilities:
- She is a troll. That means her blood is a darker red than human blood, she's difficult to kill, has horns on her head and thick grey skin.
- She is a ghost. I'll be setting her to alive mode, but she's dead canonically so it needs mention.
- Time travel. The specifics of her class' time traveling is not touched on, but it is mentioned that she can slide through timelines.
- Needlekind. Using the sticks in her hair, she is efficient in combat. This, in Damara's case, comes with a manner of magic not totally touched on.
- Sylladex. Homestuck's specific inventory system.
Inventory:
- Her sylladex, which contains various weird bits and bobs from her stay in paradox space's dream bubbles. (Mostly boonbucks, which are useless here.)
Prose Sample: The first thing she realizes is the heart pounding away in her chest. She is supposed to be dead. Why this sensation? Her lungs take in air and Damara sits upright, taking in the cool marble of a stone temple. She feels the chill of the rock with an intensity she hasn't felt for millions. She is alive, alive, alive, and it baffles her more than the sudden change in scenery. This isn't Alternia, it isn't one of her group's planets, it isn't anything at all familiar but she is used to rapid, sudden changes. Dream bubbles are fickle things, after all, and they like to warp and turn into something else while you blink.
But she shuffles up to her feet, fiddles with the rowan crown on her head, and stares at her reflection in the little mirror she found next to her. Ah, how odd. Her eyes are back to normal. Will she age like this? Damara purses her lips and tilts the mirror to read what is written there. Of course it's a magical mirror. Her cynicism bites through her mind clearly, and she wonders what would happen if she were to just break the damn thing.
She won't, though. There's a lot she doesn't know, and she can probably have fun getting that information. Villagers means people and she hopes they're at the very least entertaining.
Journal Sample:
[ Voice only, but the woman who speaks up has a very thick accent-- it's a bit different but resembles something East Asian for those who are familiar with Earth. ]
I will ride the dick of anyone who gives me what I need. It may be a good hard fucking, but that come second. More important: information. Tell me where I am. A name is only so useful. Even if you're not clean. Shoot your load into my pussy and make me moan. That will be your reward. I will drain into the bucket and the drones will be as satisfied as you.
Now. If you want the pucci. Give me my information. Get to it.
Player DW:
gasmaskContact: thoughtcrime @ plurk
Character Number: first (sort of?!)
Character: Damara Megido
Source: Homestuck
Appearance: Damara is a tiny little troll-- meaning she has grey skin, yellow sclera with red iris, candy corn colored ram horns on her head, and black hair. She keeps her hair in a bun. Fanart.
History: Here!
Timeline: 007299
Personality: Damara cares for very little, seeking to crush or ruin most everything. She is a hurt person, but that's hard to see past her anger. Her anger is what drives her; what pushes her to do as she does. And make no mistake, any kindness she shows is a farce.
The world is not to be trusted, not a single little bit of it: there is no rest past death, there is no happily ever after, there is no such thing as a faithful lover. Damara has learned these things through experience, and has etched them into her heart's walls-- her very existence. She believes in these as single grains of truth in an hourglass filled with sand.
She hates everyone around her.
The "friends" she has spent an eternity with in the afterlife, the people who pass through dream bubbles while they sleep: she hates every single one of them, and with a passion usually reserved for things either very vile or very cruel. She goes so far as to express desire to join a villain's efforts in destroying literally everything. She wants everything that has ever hurt her to disappear as though it never existed at all. She genuinely wants that.
Damara used to be very violent. After her death, she doesn't ease up on that. She can't actually do anyone any harm as a ghost, which frustrates her to another degree, but it does cause her to get a little creative with her tormenting methods. She picks up on their difficulty with her heavy accent, exaggerates it, and turns into a nonstop torrent of vicious, sexually explicit nonsense. She does it partially because it's funny, but mostly because it makes people uncomfortable. Which is exactly what she wants.
But there is another thing: Damara wasn't always so spiteful and angry. She used to be demure, kind, genuinely sweet. The transformation into the person she is today was a very quick snap. Her teammate, Meenah, treated her like shit to start with. She was mild, and Meenah was not, and they butted heads fairly often. But it wasn't until Meenah talked shit about Damara's nasty breakup that she lost it.
Her and Rufioh had been together happily, but he cheated on her. She had been so deeply in love that it wrecked her. It hurt more than anything else ever did. So for Meenah to smear the precious memories she had, to shit on her pain... that lead into a murderous, time traveling rampage. She goes so far as to kill her friends in doomed timelines and damns them all to failure.
Burned as she was, picking at the scabs of her recovery left disfiguring scars and never-healing wounds: her current personality.
Abilities:
- She is a troll. That means her blood is a darker red than human blood, she's difficult to kill, has horns on her head and thick grey skin.
- She is a ghost. I'll be setting her to alive mode, but she's dead canonically so it needs mention.
- Time travel. The specifics of her class' time traveling is not touched on, but it is mentioned that she can slide through timelines.
- Needlekind. Using the sticks in her hair, she is efficient in combat. This, in Damara's case, comes with a manner of magic not totally touched on.
- Sylladex. Homestuck's specific inventory system.
Inventory:
- Her sylladex, which contains various weird bits and bobs from her stay in paradox space's dream bubbles. (Mostly boonbucks, which are useless here.)
Prose Sample: The first thing she realizes is the heart pounding away in her chest. She is supposed to be dead. Why this sensation? Her lungs take in air and Damara sits upright, taking in the cool marble of a stone temple. She feels the chill of the rock with an intensity she hasn't felt for millions. She is alive, alive, alive, and it baffles her more than the sudden change in scenery. This isn't Alternia, it isn't one of her group's planets, it isn't anything at all familiar but she is used to rapid, sudden changes. Dream bubbles are fickle things, after all, and they like to warp and turn into something else while you blink.
But she shuffles up to her feet, fiddles with the rowan crown on her head, and stares at her reflection in the little mirror she found next to her. Ah, how odd. Her eyes are back to normal. Will she age like this? Damara purses her lips and tilts the mirror to read what is written there. Of course it's a magical mirror. Her cynicism bites through her mind clearly, and she wonders what would happen if she were to just break the damn thing.
She won't, though. There's a lot she doesn't know, and she can probably have fun getting that information. Villagers means people and she hopes they're at the very least entertaining.
Journal Sample:
[ Voice only, but the woman who speaks up has a very thick accent-- it's a bit different but resembles something East Asian for those who are familiar with Earth. ]
I will ride the dick of anyone who gives me what I need. It may be a good hard fucking, but that come second. More important: information. Tell me where I am. A name is only so useful. Even if you're not clean. Shoot your load into my pussy and make me moan. That will be your reward. I will drain into the bucket and the drones will be as satisfied as you.
Now. If you want the pucci. Give me my information. Get to it.