Post by Fox on Apr 26, 2012 7:33:00 GMT -8
DEAD.
Murdered by Vespyr. There were no witnesses.
Murdered by Vespyr. There were no witnesses.
- Name:
Fox Ritten Trickster (born Lokidottir) - Also Known As:
Soledad Zorro, Sionnach Aonair. - Age:
Likely 19, date of birth has been lost. - Height:
5' 5" - Weight:
122 lb - Blood Type:
Unknown, never tested - Gender:
Intersex (CAH, identifies female) - Sexuality:
Pansexual (However leans HIGHLY towards females) - Eye Color:
Hazel overall, more yellow when angry, more brown when sad, more green when happy. - Hair:
Goldish-brown, mistaken for black due to thickness.
Pass Time Information
Hobbies:
Puzzles, reading, napping, studying, researching, video games, drawing, anything art related, watching people (especially without them knowing), observing human behaviors, reading the dictionary for the hell of it, reading encyclopedias and college-level textbooks, learning about pretty much anything that grabs her attention, climbing trees, making weapons out of wood, sparring, swimming, exploring, hiking, fishing, archery, getting the hell away from the city, being with her dogs, being alone (by her own choice).
Talents:
HIGHLY talented speed-reader and dreamer, able to invent complex ideas and possibilities with ease, logic puzzles, anything that makes her think, fighting, understanding humanity's greatest questions and answering them. Plenty of physical stuff too, like combat and such.
Favorite Things:
Blood, hunting targets, reading, swimming, cuddling (being physically close to a protective being), music, reminding people why they shouldn't f**k with her.
Sports/Clubs:
None.
Misc:
Avoids school, often slips out calmly if bored. She only goes because it lets her watch people. "School's the best eco-system for humanity to show its base desires. And it's the best place for me to amuse myself."
Puzzles, reading, napping, studying, researching, video games, drawing, anything art related, watching people (especially without them knowing), observing human behaviors, reading the dictionary for the hell of it, reading encyclopedias and college-level textbooks, learning about pretty much anything that grabs her attention, climbing trees, making weapons out of wood, sparring, swimming, exploring, hiking, fishing, archery, getting the hell away from the city, being with her dogs, being alone (by her own choice).
Talents:
HIGHLY talented speed-reader and dreamer, able to invent complex ideas and possibilities with ease, logic puzzles, anything that makes her think, fighting, understanding humanity's greatest questions and answering them. Plenty of physical stuff too, like combat and such.
Favorite Things:
Blood, hunting targets, reading, swimming, cuddling (being physically close to a protective being), music, reminding people why they shouldn't f**k with her.
Sports/Clubs:
None.
Misc:
Avoids school, often slips out calmly if bored. She only goes because it lets her watch people. "School's the best eco-system for humanity to show its base desires. And it's the best place for me to amuse myself."
Mental Information
Personality:
Laidback, cheery, tends to keep true emotions hidden. Fox isn't known for letting much slip past the walls in her head. There's stuff other people don't need to see or know. Seemingly zoned-out, but actually very aware of what's occuring around her, not prone to getting worked up over stuff, pretty chill.
Honestly, Fox stopped letting stuff get to her years ago. Why does it matter? People see what they want to see in her, no matter how she acts. They'll never see her the way she sees herself, and they'll always find something wrong. So why not be herself? That's Fox's principle. She's blunt, lying only if there's a reason behind it. The best way to describe Fox?
Lazy.
She just doesn't give a f**k about the world. Let it ruin itself. People are gonna be people. Nothing she can do about it. She's calm, cold, and dangerous. It's hard to tell if she's even human sometimes.
Mentality:
Depends on who you ask. By her standards, she's normal and sane, if a bit... off. Defines herself as chaotic nuetral.
Ideal:
"Doesn't begin, doesn't end. Life. Stupidest thing out there. No one ever lives. Humans just aren't capable of it. In the big picture, humans are a tiny speck.
Advanced species my ass.
Advanced in ego, maybe. Humans don't even get it. They don't even know what humanity IS anymore.
Humanity's strugglin yer whole life and eventually dying hoping some almighty being will answer your questions.
In other words, stupid."
Belief:
Agnostic. Somethin's out there. What it is really doesn't matter. Not to Fox.
Laidback, cheery, tends to keep true emotions hidden. Fox isn't known for letting much slip past the walls in her head. There's stuff other people don't need to see or know. Seemingly zoned-out, but actually very aware of what's occuring around her, not prone to getting worked up over stuff, pretty chill.
Honestly, Fox stopped letting stuff get to her years ago. Why does it matter? People see what they want to see in her, no matter how she acts. They'll never see her the way she sees herself, and they'll always find something wrong. So why not be herself? That's Fox's principle. She's blunt, lying only if there's a reason behind it. The best way to describe Fox?
Lazy.
She just doesn't give a f**k about the world. Let it ruin itself. People are gonna be people. Nothing she can do about it. She's calm, cold, and dangerous. It's hard to tell if she's even human sometimes.
Mentality:
Depends on who you ask. By her standards, she's normal and sane, if a bit... off. Defines herself as chaotic nuetral.
Ideal:
"Doesn't begin, doesn't end. Life. Stupidest thing out there. No one ever lives. Humans just aren't capable of it. In the big picture, humans are a tiny speck.
Advanced species my ass.
Advanced in ego, maybe. Humans don't even get it. They don't even know what humanity IS anymore.
Humanity's strugglin yer whole life and eventually dying hoping some almighty being will answer your questions.
In other words, stupid."
Belief:
Agnostic. Somethin's out there. What it is really doesn't matter. Not to Fox.
Physical Information
Build:
Wiry.
Defining Marks:
*Scars*
Wiry.
Defining Marks:
*Scars*
- Long scar on left forearm, running from elbow to wrist. Self-inflicted. Caused by an insatiable bloodlust that possessed her at age 12. The previous day, she slew the man who she believes killed her mother.
- Scar running from outside edge of right eyebrow ridge, ending with a small nick missing from right ear, indicating a former deep wound.
- Scar starting around the middle SW (the face is North) portion of her neck, wrapping down to run vertically down the left side of her neck and across the nub of the left collarbone, ending just above the bottom of the sternum.
- Surgical scar on her lower left abdomen.
*Body Parts* - Missing the phalanges (all bones after the first joint in the toe) on both second toes (the one right next to the big toe). Disturbingly enough, she has all the bones from both severed digits, woven into a cord bracelet she wears.
- After 2011 and her escape, Fox has no usage of her left eye. The lid was stitched shut in a sadistic display of power and fun. Hardly seems crippled by it, but the black stitches stand out on her pale skin.
*Tattoos* - Twin tribal foxes, one on the back of each shoulder blade, looking inward at each other. Both are grinning and are said to have "a devious look" in their eye.
Description:
"You want me to describe myself? Oh this is gonna be bloody lovely. Alright, rather average height and weight, if a little thin. Strong though. My hair's nice I guess, mid-range brown, how light or dark it is depends on the season, though I don't really notice. I usually have it in a ponytail out of convienance. I like hats a lot too. Baseball cap style.
My face? Um... Normal? I don't know, it's my face. My eyes are wacky, since they vary from 3 different colors. Or so people tell me. I don't exactly look in mirrors all that much. Prefer to avoid them, actually. I don't wear makeup at all. I am who I am. You don't like my face? Look elsewhere.
I'm tanned mildly, though pale compared to most. No prominant muscles but I do have 'em, good ones, especially in my arms. Most of my height's in my legs, so when I sit I feel bloody short. I'm a bit long-legged. My fingers are a tad longer than average, and very useful. They're beat up though. I live a rough lifestyle. I'm still dealing with my waning nailbiting habit, so my nails are really short. Damned ADHD makes me so fidgety sometimes...
Um I don't know what else there is. I'm covered in scars, which lend to my pale appearance. They're all pretty small but white, and combined they lighten my skin quite a bit.
Oh. I guess I should say, apparently my eyes are haunting. Makes sense. Eyes are the window to the soul. My soul's haunted.
Right. Forgot about my "gender". Intersex. Also known as CAH. I was born with a female lower half and semi-masculine upper half. Or, put simply, I've got no female breasts. At puberty, my body couldn't produce the needed hormones for breast development. Normally, the body would develop tiny breasts, more of a "floppy chest" than anything, but I was so skinny, my body couldn't even do that. So I'm a guy above and a girl below. It's so wierd. But I'm used to it."
"You want me to describe myself? Oh this is gonna be bloody lovely. Alright, rather average height and weight, if a little thin. Strong though. My hair's nice I guess, mid-range brown, how light or dark it is depends on the season, though I don't really notice. I usually have it in a ponytail out of convienance. I like hats a lot too. Baseball cap style.
My face? Um... Normal? I don't know, it's my face. My eyes are wacky, since they vary from 3 different colors. Or so people tell me. I don't exactly look in mirrors all that much. Prefer to avoid them, actually. I don't wear makeup at all. I am who I am. You don't like my face? Look elsewhere.
I'm tanned mildly, though pale compared to most. No prominant muscles but I do have 'em, good ones, especially in my arms. Most of my height's in my legs, so when I sit I feel bloody short. I'm a bit long-legged. My fingers are a tad longer than average, and very useful. They're beat up though. I live a rough lifestyle. I'm still dealing with my waning nailbiting habit, so my nails are really short. Damned ADHD makes me so fidgety sometimes...
Um I don't know what else there is. I'm covered in scars, which lend to my pale appearance. They're all pretty small but white, and combined they lighten my skin quite a bit.
Oh. I guess I should say, apparently my eyes are haunting. Makes sense. Eyes are the window to the soul. My soul's haunted.
Right. Forgot about my "gender". Intersex. Also known as CAH. I was born with a female lower half and semi-masculine upper half. Or, put simply, I've got no female breasts. At puberty, my body couldn't produce the needed hormones for breast development. Normally, the body would develop tiny breasts, more of a "floppy chest" than anything, but I was so skinny, my body couldn't even do that. So I'm a guy above and a girl below. It's so wierd. But I'm used to it."
Apparel Information
Head Gear:
Baseball style caps. Most of the time has either a hat or hood or both on.
Shirts:
T-shirts. Despite coming from New England, in the mountians, she has always worn t-shirts. Hoodies too. And tank tops. All in dark colors, usually brown, black, and the occasional dark green.
Pants:
Jeans. What else is there. Well, shorts in the summer, but those are usually either jean shorts or boys cargo-style shorts.
Shoes:
If she has a choice, none. If she has to, sneakers. Rather old beaten up ones.
Misc:
Small crucifix around her neck on a black cord, ring on her finger. It has a Celtic Tribal pattern. A hemp-like woven off-white bracelet on left wrist, digital watch on right wrist.
Baseball style caps. Most of the time has either a hat or hood or both on.
Shirts:
T-shirts. Despite coming from New England, in the mountians, she has always worn t-shirts. Hoodies too. And tank tops. All in dark colors, usually brown, black, and the occasional dark green.
Pants:
Jeans. What else is there. Well, shorts in the summer, but those are usually either jean shorts or boys cargo-style shorts.
Shoes:
If she has a choice, none. If she has to, sneakers. Rather old beaten up ones.
Misc:
Small crucifix around her neck on a black cord, ring on her finger. It has a Celtic Tribal pattern. A hemp-like woven off-white bracelet on left wrist, digital watch on right wrist.
Fighting Information
Fighting Style:
Vulpine
Years Practiced:
As long as she can remember, likely most of her life.
Description of Style:
Very animalistic. Vulpine grows stronger with it's user. It's mainly a style that augments the user's best fighting traits. The basic premise is an animalistic-based style, most effective when the user stops thinking like a person and begins to think like an animal, ie, let instinct take over. Half of the time, the user will fight on all fours. It is very instinctive and vicious, and you cannot reason with a person while they are fully in the style. It involves a complete detatchment of the unuseful things in combat, like talking.
Vulpine
Years Practiced:
As long as she can remember, likely most of her life.
Description of Style:
Very animalistic. Vulpine grows stronger with it's user. It's mainly a style that augments the user's best fighting traits. The basic premise is an animalistic-based style, most effective when the user stops thinking like a person and begins to think like an animal, ie, let instinct take over. Half of the time, the user will fight on all fours. It is very instinctive and vicious, and you cannot reason with a person while they are fully in the style. It involves a complete detatchment of the unuseful things in combat, like talking.
History Information
History: Told by Fox Trickster
Early Life
My father's a millionaire. My mother, a whore. As you can imagine, I wasn't raised in a mansion. The fact that I was even born at all was a surprise. Sherry (That'd be my mum) told me she could have sworn she was on contraception. When she wasn't stewed to the gills, that is. Sherry loved the drink. Adored it. Helped her forget all her problems. Like having a kid. I raised myself. Did a damn fine job of it, too, if I do say so myself. Earned all my cash myself. Like Sherry would ever spare a cent for me. I don't even exist.
Yeah, according to the government, I don't exist. Got no birth certificate, no Social Security number, nothing. There is absolutely no record of my existence anywhere. Found that out when I went lookin for Loki.
Right. I haven't told you about Loki, have I? Loki's my father. No, not the Norse God of Trickery. I wish that Loki was my father. No, I'm the lucky daughter of Loki Coyle, the head of Coyle Tech. Yeah. My dad's the guy who makes some of the world's most dangerous weaponry. Guess I inherited that love of death from him. Lucky me, right? Wrong.
You have no idea how much I despise Loki. He spat in my face. I came to him, looking for answers, wondering why I didn't exist according to the government. The jackass smiled and said:
"I make the deadliest weapons known to man. And the US government pays me any price I ask so I won't sell to their enemies. That includes dealing with little accidents like you."
Yeah, I lost my temper at that. Who wouldn't, though? I wasn't thinking clearly and just lunged. He spun, and I hit the floor, a line of pain across my temple. Holding the bloody knife, he just snickered and told me to get lost. I vowed revenge. I was only 9, but I knew I would kill him.
That year Sherry died. Alcohol poisoning. Literally. Someone spiked her drink. Took me 3 years to find and kill the bastard who did it. Not out of any love for Sherry. She was a worthless drunk. Nah, it was the principle of the thing, you know? Loki'd pulled a low move, sendin a hit man after my ma. She wasn't good for anythin but whorin, sure, but still, fuckin with a dumb drunk bitch like her was just low. Course, Loki didn't send one of his men after my ma. As I found out soon enough. The Mafia are not nice people, jus' so you know. Took half of two toes of mine. I'm surprised they didn't take my fingers. Apparently, I had "spunk", though. Still, cruel thing to do to a 12-year-old.
Anyways, I wasn't about to let the whole thing stand, so I laid a little ambush for Daddy Dearest. He cut me from neck to sternum, laughing as his limo burned to ashes behind him. I barely crawled away from that fight. I lay low after that. Very low. Got a better job, working at a steel factory, 10 hour days. The owner was reluctant to let me work there at first, til I showed him my age and size didn't matter. No one questioned the 13-year-old chick with a blowtorch after that. It was a long, hard job, but it payed real well, well enough for a kid like me. I got my own apartment with that money. Even got a little puppy, stray I found on the streets. Named her Lola. Cute little pup, white as lilies with a face like she'd dipped it in a bucket of tar. Real sweet brown eyes, chocolate you could dive into. Damned adorable. I loved her to bits, the tiny pip. Real full of attitude, a true terrier. We lived a good life together, Lola and I. Later I took in a Wiemeraner, big girl I named Trinity. Bull-headed, cleverer than was good for her, a real trouble-maker for me, getting into everything. But she'd taken her fair share of bites out of intruders, and she was too affectionate to Lola and I to let go. We were happy, us three.
I spent 4 years in bliss with a job, a home, two dogs, and even some friends. But that wasn't gonna last, and I knew it. I couldn't sit around and let Loki have the last laugh. So I made a move that cost me everything. Home, job, friends, life. Don't mess with rich men. And don't ever try to blackmail them by threatening to go to the press. I lost everything. I was kneeling outside of that torched remains of the factory when he walked up and took a handful of my hair, forcin me to look at him. His green eyes burned into me, talkin down to me.
"You have nothing left, Fox. Give up with some dignity. It's all you have to lose."
I glared back. My eyes were red from tears. They musta looked demonic, yellow and red in such raw hatred. "You'll die for this, Loki."
"You never learn, child." He threw my sooty body to the ground and walked away. Just walked away. Like I didn't even matter.
I lived on the streets briefly after that. Then it happened. A cudgel to the head. Dragged me off to some dark, dank place. No one even noticed I was gone. They wanted me to break. Week after week, month after month, they tried to break me. Every hour of every day, they tried.
I never did.
Summer 2011
.........The door.
He's back.
His laugh, I can hear it over the whine of the hinges.
Don't look don't look don't look....
"Miss me, darling?"
Don't look don't look don't...
"Oh, come on, babe. Look at me. Don't you miss your lover?"
I hate you I hate you when I get free you will-
"Come ON, you bitch, look at me. You got one eye left, girl!"
I HATE YOU YOU EVIL BASTARD...
"LOOK AT ME, GIRL!!"
I look.
"Good, darling." His hands. I know them too well. Rough. Callused. A working man. One traces along my jaw now. "Did you miss me?"
Nod.
I did miss him. I can't stand it, day after day, alone in pitch-black. I need him.
He knows. He smiles. He can be so tender. Like a lover.
The lover that keeps me here.
The lover that took my eye.
My legs may be broken, but my mind is not. I cannot trust him. Yet I do. I must. He is my anchor.
"Don't worry, darling. You'll be out of here soon." He drops to a mutter. Thinks I can't hear him. "Once your father decides, that is."
Eye flies wide. Everything goes black.
I taste blood. My head is ringing. He's standing over me. He's bleeding. His finger's gone. Not missing, though. I know where it is. I know I did it. I can't remember it, though.
"YOU STUPID BITCH, WHAT THE HE-" Stops. Pulls himself together. Composed. Calm. That scares me.
"Well, I guess you're not tame yet. Time to deal with those fangs."
Straps me down. Isn't careful with my legs. Rough, even. Looks for a scream. I don't give him one.
Not yet.
"You even play "Operation", darling?"
I nod.
"This is my version of it."
Now I scream.
I don't stop. My voice just gives out. But I keep trying. And he keeps smiling.
Then it goes black.
I wake.
Wish I hadn't. My side... It's burning. What did he d-
"Hello, Darling."
A voice out of darkness. Can't see him. Can't sense him. Twist to look for him. Yelp. Fall onto my back. He's holding me in an instant.
"Careful, babe. You're still healing."
He's so tender with me. His gaze is so filled with love and concern.
I hate it.
Venom is nothing compared to my eye. Hatred fueled by love, by betrayal. Even he recoils.
"Darling...?"
"I AM NOT YOUR DARLING!!"
He sees my intention. But too late. My teeth are already at his throat. And then, I'm staggering away, legs screaming at me, splints threatening to give way.
Passed out in some God-forsaken part of this city... [Laughs] It's all God-forsaken.
Blood-soaked, shrunken form curled against grime-coated walls, hidden in shadows. One red eye flickering desperately, half-mad from torture and isolation, full of suffering.
Seeing monsters that cannot be defeated. Demons undetered by the holiest of names. Visions of torments wrack the mind.
And one hollow eye staring out into the darkest of nights.
"Oh, he's faded away into the night
Another demon's won the fight
She's left alone, scarred in the dark
Mirrors and windows smashed apart."
The bit of doggrel is the last thing Fox spoke since her escape. For her, there is yet any soul worthy of such a thing.
Thus truely is a broken soul, the Beast of One Eye. Spawn of Satan himself, wielder of sanity and madness equally.
They call her a demon.
But what more can she be?
"I have become your nightmare
Say good-bye to everything."
Note: Since the incident, Fox's mental state has been altered. She retains her former self, but has also spawned a seperate being, a seperate Fox. She is completely sane. She merely harbors an insane side as well. All people do, they only push it back. So does Fox. She's not repressed, she's not deluding herself. She acknowledges her insanity as part of her, accepts it as her norm. There's no pressure or strain on her from it because she doesn't try to fit herself into the average human mold. She doesn't hold herself by society's standards of sanity and such, so to conflict with them doesn't even have any relavance to her.
Due to the torture she endured, she now kills quite often. She doesn't do it for any high-minded reason. Nor does she justify it. Justification means thinking about her own morals and scruples. It means trying to convince herself she's in the right. She doesn't need to do that. She kills because it causes the empathic sensations that trigger one of humanity's most basal survival instincts. She acts as her ADHD nature compels her to: impulsively and without thought of consequences.
Plainly, Fox suffers no moral repercussions for her actions, because she lacks anything that could be construed as morals. Killing is just like clipping her nails, and about as mentally crucial to her as such a simple thing.
Early Life
My father's a millionaire. My mother, a whore. As you can imagine, I wasn't raised in a mansion. The fact that I was even born at all was a surprise. Sherry (That'd be my mum) told me she could have sworn she was on contraception. When she wasn't stewed to the gills, that is. Sherry loved the drink. Adored it. Helped her forget all her problems. Like having a kid. I raised myself. Did a damn fine job of it, too, if I do say so myself. Earned all my cash myself. Like Sherry would ever spare a cent for me. I don't even exist.
Yeah, according to the government, I don't exist. Got no birth certificate, no Social Security number, nothing. There is absolutely no record of my existence anywhere. Found that out when I went lookin for Loki.
Right. I haven't told you about Loki, have I? Loki's my father. No, not the Norse God of Trickery. I wish that Loki was my father. No, I'm the lucky daughter of Loki Coyle, the head of Coyle Tech. Yeah. My dad's the guy who makes some of the world's most dangerous weaponry. Guess I inherited that love of death from him. Lucky me, right? Wrong.
You have no idea how much I despise Loki. He spat in my face. I came to him, looking for answers, wondering why I didn't exist according to the government. The jackass smiled and said:
"I make the deadliest weapons known to man. And the US government pays me any price I ask so I won't sell to their enemies. That includes dealing with little accidents like you."
Yeah, I lost my temper at that. Who wouldn't, though? I wasn't thinking clearly and just lunged. He spun, and I hit the floor, a line of pain across my temple. Holding the bloody knife, he just snickered and told me to get lost. I vowed revenge. I was only 9, but I knew I would kill him.
That year Sherry died. Alcohol poisoning. Literally. Someone spiked her drink. Took me 3 years to find and kill the bastard who did it. Not out of any love for Sherry. She was a worthless drunk. Nah, it was the principle of the thing, you know? Loki'd pulled a low move, sendin a hit man after my ma. She wasn't good for anythin but whorin, sure, but still, fuckin with a dumb drunk bitch like her was just low. Course, Loki didn't send one of his men after my ma. As I found out soon enough. The Mafia are not nice people, jus' so you know. Took half of two toes of mine. I'm surprised they didn't take my fingers. Apparently, I had "spunk", though. Still, cruel thing to do to a 12-year-old.
Anyways, I wasn't about to let the whole thing stand, so I laid a little ambush for Daddy Dearest. He cut me from neck to sternum, laughing as his limo burned to ashes behind him. I barely crawled away from that fight. I lay low after that. Very low. Got a better job, working at a steel factory, 10 hour days. The owner was reluctant to let me work there at first, til I showed him my age and size didn't matter. No one questioned the 13-year-old chick with a blowtorch after that. It was a long, hard job, but it payed real well, well enough for a kid like me. I got my own apartment with that money. Even got a little puppy, stray I found on the streets. Named her Lola. Cute little pup, white as lilies with a face like she'd dipped it in a bucket of tar. Real sweet brown eyes, chocolate you could dive into. Damned adorable. I loved her to bits, the tiny pip. Real full of attitude, a true terrier. We lived a good life together, Lola and I. Later I took in a Wiemeraner, big girl I named Trinity. Bull-headed, cleverer than was good for her, a real trouble-maker for me, getting into everything. But she'd taken her fair share of bites out of intruders, and she was too affectionate to Lola and I to let go. We were happy, us three.
I spent 4 years in bliss with a job, a home, two dogs, and even some friends. But that wasn't gonna last, and I knew it. I couldn't sit around and let Loki have the last laugh. So I made a move that cost me everything. Home, job, friends, life. Don't mess with rich men. And don't ever try to blackmail them by threatening to go to the press. I lost everything. I was kneeling outside of that torched remains of the factory when he walked up and took a handful of my hair, forcin me to look at him. His green eyes burned into me, talkin down to me.
"You have nothing left, Fox. Give up with some dignity. It's all you have to lose."
I glared back. My eyes were red from tears. They musta looked demonic, yellow and red in such raw hatred. "You'll die for this, Loki."
"You never learn, child." He threw my sooty body to the ground and walked away. Just walked away. Like I didn't even matter.
I lived on the streets briefly after that. Then it happened. A cudgel to the head. Dragged me off to some dark, dank place. No one even noticed I was gone. They wanted me to break. Week after week, month after month, they tried to break me. Every hour of every day, they tried.
I never did.
Summer 2011
.........The door.
He's back.
His laugh, I can hear it over the whine of the hinges.
Don't look don't look don't look....
"Miss me, darling?"
Don't look don't look don't...
"Oh, come on, babe. Look at me. Don't you miss your lover?"
I hate you I hate you when I get free you will-
"Come ON, you bitch, look at me. You got one eye left, girl!"
I HATE YOU YOU EVIL BASTARD...
"LOOK AT ME, GIRL!!"
I look.
"Good, darling." His hands. I know them too well. Rough. Callused. A working man. One traces along my jaw now. "Did you miss me?"
Nod.
I did miss him. I can't stand it, day after day, alone in pitch-black. I need him.
He knows. He smiles. He can be so tender. Like a lover.
The lover that keeps me here.
The lover that took my eye.
My legs may be broken, but my mind is not. I cannot trust him. Yet I do. I must. He is my anchor.
"Don't worry, darling. You'll be out of here soon." He drops to a mutter. Thinks I can't hear him. "Once your father decides, that is."
Eye flies wide. Everything goes black.
I taste blood. My head is ringing. He's standing over me. He's bleeding. His finger's gone. Not missing, though. I know where it is. I know I did it. I can't remember it, though.
"YOU STUPID BITCH, WHAT THE HE-" Stops. Pulls himself together. Composed. Calm. That scares me.
"Well, I guess you're not tame yet. Time to deal with those fangs."
Straps me down. Isn't careful with my legs. Rough, even. Looks for a scream. I don't give him one.
Not yet.
"You even play "Operation", darling?"
I nod.
"This is my version of it."
Now I scream.
I don't stop. My voice just gives out. But I keep trying. And he keeps smiling.
Then it goes black.
I wake.
Wish I hadn't. My side... It's burning. What did he d-
"Hello, Darling."
A voice out of darkness. Can't see him. Can't sense him. Twist to look for him. Yelp. Fall onto my back. He's holding me in an instant.
"Careful, babe. You're still healing."
He's so tender with me. His gaze is so filled with love and concern.
I hate it.
Venom is nothing compared to my eye. Hatred fueled by love, by betrayal. Even he recoils.
"Darling...?"
"I AM NOT YOUR DARLING!!"
He sees my intention. But too late. My teeth are already at his throat. And then, I'm staggering away, legs screaming at me, splints threatening to give way.
Passed out in some God-forsaken part of this city... [Laughs] It's all God-forsaken.
Blood-soaked, shrunken form curled against grime-coated walls, hidden in shadows. One red eye flickering desperately, half-mad from torture and isolation, full of suffering.
Seeing monsters that cannot be defeated. Demons undetered by the holiest of names. Visions of torments wrack the mind.
And one hollow eye staring out into the darkest of nights.
"Oh, he's faded away into the night
Another demon's won the fight
She's left alone, scarred in the dark
Mirrors and windows smashed apart."
The bit of doggrel is the last thing Fox spoke since her escape. For her, there is yet any soul worthy of such a thing.
Thus truely is a broken soul, the Beast of One Eye. Spawn of Satan himself, wielder of sanity and madness equally.
They call her a demon.
But what more can she be?
"I have become your nightmare
Say good-bye to everything."
Note: Since the incident, Fox's mental state has been altered. She retains her former self, but has also spawned a seperate being, a seperate Fox. She is completely sane. She merely harbors an insane side as well. All people do, they only push it back. So does Fox. She's not repressed, she's not deluding herself. She acknowledges her insanity as part of her, accepts it as her norm. There's no pressure or strain on her from it because she doesn't try to fit herself into the average human mold. She doesn't hold herself by society's standards of sanity and such, so to conflict with them doesn't even have any relavance to her.
Due to the torture she endured, she now kills quite often. She doesn't do it for any high-minded reason. Nor does she justify it. Justification means thinking about her own morals and scruples. It means trying to convince herself she's in the right. She doesn't need to do that. She kills because it causes the empathic sensations that trigger one of humanity's most basal survival instincts. She acts as her ADHD nature compels her to: impulsively and without thought of consequences.
Plainly, Fox suffers no moral repercussions for her actions, because she lacks anything that could be construed as morals. Killing is just like clipping her nails, and about as mentally crucial to her as such a simple thing.
Living Status Information
Type of Residence:
Formerly, a two-bedroom apartment. Currently, in a nearby abandoned library cellar. Many of the materials survived, to her pleasure.
Cases Against The Faculty: 0
Cases Of Hurting Students: 0
Formerly, a two-bedroom apartment. Currently, in a nearby abandoned library cellar. Many of the materials survived, to her pleasure.
Cases Against The Faculty: 0
Cases Of Hurting Students: 0
Stats:
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 20
Charisma: 10
WARNING: Male characters, do know she will be more likely to tear off your genitals than simply attack you. It's nothing personal, but she has a severe grudge against males.
No, I don't want to dance with the cookie
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 20
Charisma: 10
| Slot | Item(s) |
| Head | |
| Hat/Bandana | Row 19 Column 2 |
| Earrings | Row 20 Column 2 |
| Glasses | Row 21 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Torso | |
| Shirt | Row 2 Column 2 |
| Jacket/Coat | Row 3 Column 2 |
| Necklace | Row 4 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Arms | |
| Arm | Row 6 Column 2 |
| Wrist | Row 7 Column 2 |
| Gloves | Row 8 Column 2 |
| Ring | Row 9 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Legs | |
| Pants | Row 11 Column 2 |
| Shin | Row 12 Column 2 |
| Shoes | Row 13 Column 2 |
| Belt | Row 14 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Misc | |
| 1 | Row 16 Column 2 |
| 2 | Row 17 Column 2 |
WARNING: Male characters, do know she will be more likely to tear off your genitals than simply attack you. It's nothing personal, but she has a severe grudge against males.
No, I don't want to dance with the cookie
