sucre'd fiend’s Comments (group member since May 24, 2013)

sucre'd fiend’s comments from the Enigma group.

We should clear out the character, seeing as a good deal of the characters are no longer active people. We should also move this conversation over to a different thread.

Under construction. I can't do that huge ones because of time(view spoiler)[

{First Name} Genim
{Middle Name} N/A
{Last Name} Stilinski
{Nicknames} Gen, Nimmy, Stiles
{Gender Male
{Age} 22
{DOB} June Twenty-Fourth
{POB} Unknown Town, Sweden
{Last Residence} California

{Power}

Appearance:



Stiles is generally a lean, somewhat gangly teenage boy. His complexion is pale, not deathly pale but the standard pale for humans. He has a foxy sort of face. His eyes are slightly slitted with the on slot of thought, a greenish brown sort of hue with specks of gold when hit certain ways by the light. He has a few moles dotted around his body, but not of such a size that they draw attention and are obscenely unwelcome by females.

His hair is a nice chestnut color, with little strands of blonde. He doesn't quite approve of the stray little white fibers in his hair, but he deals with it by ignoring them. His lips are usually pulled up in a mischievous smirk, or pressed together when he thinks, or more commonly having his tongue dart across them. The soft pink bits of flesh cover up pearly white teeth.
Distinguished Markings: His moles. He has a lot of them, not all visible unless he's naked.

Personality:
Stiles is rowdy. Not in the crazy and violent kind of rowdy, but the loud and jovial sort. He's very optimistic, and a goofball. He enjoys making people laugh, as well. He doesn't see himself as the best looking guy out there, or really mildly attractive. Most don't often see him as much other than a pretty face, but there's more to him than that. He's clever, and a quick thinker. He's kind, almost incredibly so, but what most don't see is how cruel he could be. He could be a villain, but the light of a hero outshines it, as of now.

He has the potential to the most cruel person around. Double cross him, and you get a sharply worded letter or maybe something more. Yeah, sure, he doesn't make the best decisions, and yes, some can be rash. He isn't perfect, and he knows that. He knows that he can't save everyone or make everything great and dandy.

Stiles is really very self depreciating, when given the chance to be. He doesn't believe in himself much of the time, but he does his best. He has to make decisions that he sometimes doesn't understand, but he catches on quickly. Otherwise, he's faces most of his problems with heavy sarcasm to avoid physical confrontation.

Relationship Status: Single
Sexuality: Heterosexual

History:
Stiles was born in Crosser Springs, thank the Lord, but he had originally moved away with his family to a small town not too far away. His father was part of a miners' association that moved with the defficiency of miners. There was an accident at one mine that his father had been working on. His mother assumed the worst and brought him back to Crosser Springs with his younger sister in tow. He was then only ten when the discovery of Qusite was confirmed.

By the time was was sixteen, he'd already decided that he didn't like the idea of Quiste. Yeah, it was pretty cool, but something was off in his mind. When the bubble went up and reports of deaths started to arise, he grew even more suspicious. Being as he was, he found no way to really question it and get his point out, so he stuck with computers and got close to the situation as best he could.

Hence the founding of White Rabbit. It wasn't mostly his idea, he played a small part, but he was there for it. He helped with most of the technological aspects of the project, whereas a friend of his did more of the physical stuff, because of course she's kickass awesome in his eyes, well compared to him.

Other: None (hide spoiler)]

{Taylor} Approved

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( ♠ ) Ｐａｒｏｘｙｓｍａｌ Ａｓｐｈｙｘｉａｔｉｏｎ

{Part I}




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❝❞

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Neliet
『 〓 』• Pronounced | | | | | | | | | | |
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❝❞
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Appearance:



A:PPARITIONAL APPEARANCE
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❝❞

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Mutation: Extreme Calculation

He can calculate different scenerios using an enhanced intelligence. Essentially, this would be called "foresight" or would otherwise be known as being able to see the future. However, he can often see too far ahead, and is plagued with the different ways he could end up dying.

Gender:
Blood Type:
Sexual Orientation:
Relationship Status:
Age:
⊱ Zodiacal symbol:
⊱ Born in
⊱ Ethnical background includes


• Hair Colour:
• Eye Colour:
Distinguished Marking(s):
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• Height:
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❝❞


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▪▪ ◞sᴋɪʟʟs & ᴀᴛᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛᴇs

❛ STRENGTHS ☇ ♛
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❛ WEAKNESSES ☇ ♛
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Please fix your bolding and go into a bit more detail about her ability. If you leave it as is, it could be over-dominant

"Use me? That would be impossible," Morticia stated indignantly, "You're not using me for anything." She turned to walk away again, huffing.

"And why can't you do this on your own," Morticia questioned, brows creased with slight irritation, "You look totally capable of doing this on your own."

"I don't even know who those people are," Morticia huffed. She'd never been one for conversation, and avoided it at all costs. This was no different and she was sure that she'd never spoken to anyone with either of those names.

"What is is," Morticia sighed, turning back around to face him. She crossed her arms over her just as she waited for him to speak, expression a mixture of boredom and impatience.

((Wouldn't he have not known her name, since he hadn't asked it before hand?))

Morticia glanced up at the boy who bumped into her, brows furrowed. Not this again. "I'm fine, I wasn't feeling bad earlier," she stated, turning to go.

Morticia watched the small scene silently. It was her cue to leave, and she took it as such. She strode out of the break room, deciding that she would be in need of some serious food.

I like that. We'll see what Gracie thinks when she gets on.

A dining hall shall be made shortly, guys.

Morticia pursed her lips. Conversation wasn't exactly what she needed at this time. Before she could answer, however, the boy who had spoken to her left, along with the girl he'd been talking to. She sighed gratefully, adjusting the eye patch over her left eye.

((Sorry, had to leave))

Morticia looked over to the boy who'd asked if she was okay. Her choice position near the corner was enough to suggest her not being okay. "No, I'm fine," she replied, though it came out a bit too curtly.

Morticia strode into the break room, a headache forming. The entire left side of her head throbbed in pain, while her mind was screaming just how bad it was.

{Username} SeaTheFiend

{Moderator Experience} I have been a moderator in multiple groups, most of which are thriving. I work very well with organization, particularly in keeping track of characters and resolving conflicts that might arise.
{Moderator/Creator of}
*Academy of Mystical Beings (AMB): Moderator
It was, and is, one of the most popular groups for roleplaying on GR
*Novem Imperium: Moderator
*Downright Delinquents: Moderator
*The Curse That Keeps Me Bound: Creator
*Souls On Fire: Creator
*Inferno: Moderator

And a few more, but that would require me to search through all of my groups, and there are many.

{Reasoning} Well, I do much so like to contribute to groups that I'm in as much as I can. This would just be a way of me doing so. I'm usually on all day, so that would allow me to address any issues in my time here.

{Part IV}

These dolls were, of course, humans.

That being said, both Decay and his father were wanted serial killers, with a woman who was very pregnant with octuplets. Decay's mother happened to give birth to said children while in imprisonment, but that's a story for another time. Any who, Decay had a knack for luring the ladies in. It was his best point in the job, other than the actual gutting that had to occur.

(view spoiler)[Now the gutting is hard to explain. One must first actually kill the human, or not if you enjoy hearing them scream as you cut them open vertically. Doing so horizontally makes it harder for you to remove the internal organs. Obviously, the first thing to come out is the large intestine. That's a given, as it tends to spew out when the midsection is cut in the manner needed. Next you remove the other organs that aren't rooted in place. The lungs and heart are last to go. These two organs must be preserved, as they taste the best when broiled in red wine and garlic. (hide spoiler)]

One evening, the night his father died, he convinced a woman to walk to the shadowy parts of an alley, offering her many things. What waited for him, and later his father, was an ambush. The code for the Graves was to never stay in one place for too long, and this time they'd stayed for two weeks. An happening such as this was unheard of, and would remain that way.

Getting back to the ambush, his father was killed, more so concerned with protecting his fifteen year old son than his own life. He let himself be beaten to death by the angry townsfolk. Decay would have had the same thing happen to him, had he not run at the dying command of his father.

A single law passed through the mystical Gypsy community was to never bring family back. The action would be far too dangerous, and the consequences would be dire. To break this law was to die at the hands of the person you'd raised, and turn them into a demon.

That was not the life Decay wanted for his father, or the sorrow he wanted his mother to live with.

From that day on, Decay carried out his process a little differently. It was close to terrifying, the way he proceeded to do so. He cut them down like livestock, but once they were dead he treated them like they were royalty. He carried this spite for humans down to his daughter and son, Morticia and Petrus.

His siblings were handfuls, but his mother was worse in the months to come.

With two unstable minds spiraling into a downwards spiral, you can only imagine what could happen. His mother hung herself two years after his father's death, leaving him and his siblings on the street. Two of the eight toddlers contacted a common disease in the area, and died two weeks afterwards. The remaining six stuck close to Decay, as he was the only family they had left.

As the years passed and his sibling grew older, they were able to continue the family business. They set up shop in a single area, this one more populated with their kind. The decision had been right, and in this situation they prospered.

Or, at least they thought they did.

They were fooled by the illusion of community. The humans had caught on, and the Gypsies did nothing. The children scattered like rats off a sinking ship, and they lost contact for many years. Having already lost most of his family, the instability that was his mind crumbled.

He spent a better deal of a week slaughtering the whole town.

(view spoiler)[ "It was really blood business, and that's what I regret. I wasn't doing anything clean enough to be able to use any of them later one. It really was a shame. But, ukochana córka, I had good fun doing it. You need that kind of fun, and so does your mother."

"Moja miłość! No need to share such things with a child! She'll go about killing people without our permission!"

"What, what? She needs to know! And she asked to know, so I told her. Leave me be, and let her tell us a story for a change." (hide spoiler)]



The story of how these two potentially insane characters is also for another time, but now that you understand what it is that affects them as parents.
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❝Oh, is it my turn now? Let me say that I do not have such heartbreak. I was not gifted the right to love just yet, and I am still in need of a prospective partner. Just let me know once I have told my story so far.❞

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❝It's Good to be Dead❞

Being born a with further up abilities can do a number of things to you. For one, you're in the dark for hours, unable to see a thing as your eyes come back to life. However, when your eye ends up in your mouth, things are slightly different. It's so much more trippy to be bale to see out of your right eye and have complete darkness where your left eyes should be. Morticia's parents were unconcerned by that development, and found it to be just an endearing trait. Her older brother Petrus, six years her senior, thought otherwise.

Morticia spent the first few hours of her life having an eye removed from the roof of her mouth. Unlike most children, she calmly allowed the doctor to remove it. It was placed in a jar, staring back at her somewhat lovingly. The first sound to leave her mouth was a giggle, more so a gurgle of happiness.

This development was nothing in the many mangled limbs she'd have to face later on in life.

At the age of three, she discovered her liking for the night. She ran about catching fireflies one summer evening. Time ran away from her as she enjoyed her play of capturing the tiny insects and watching them glow in her small hands. Her parents were, again, unconcerned about leaving her out by herself. The moon was high over head when she realized how dark it was. A grin broke out onto her face, making her chubby cheek pucker out with dimples. She also discovered her love for spiders and birds in this manner, but that is to be gotten into later.

Shortly after that incident, her mother began teaching her to sew. The little activity was their way of bonding, other than when she was taught how to use her powers correctly. This skill was later put to use making dresses for her dolls. She became an expert at the task, quickly being able to do the most complex threading by the time she was six. Her slender fingers were of much help to her, along with the prompting of her mother, father, and elder brother.

The next event to happen was far more intriguing. This was her first corpse. She'd never seen one larger than a bird, and seeing a human was something she'd wanted. Her father had often spoke vehemently against them, and she had wanted to see how dangerous these creatures were. When her father pulled out the thin, bleeding young man, she saw exactly what her father and mother did.

Vermin.

This would only be the beginning of her boiling hatred for humans, and if anything, a prelude to her testament of ravishing human men.
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❝‘Cause you’re a hard soul to save,
With an ocean in the way,
But I’ll get around it.❞

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❝Arms and Legs❞

When Morticia reached the age of fifteen, puberty had already worked its magic on her body. She was a beautiful young girl, without the proper mannerisms to be a lady, and widely sought out. Necrophiliacs were apparently quite common in that time, go figure. She didn't enjoy the attention, and wanted nothing more than to gouge every last one of their eyes out so they'd stop looking at her.

That was the last thing she needed.

She managed to get away from a particularly aggressive suitor, one night, and was heading home. What she hadn't been paying attention to was the carriage coming right at her as she turned a corner. Her dress, curse the damn things, caught onto the edge of the carriage and it dragged her a good ten miles out of town. Her legs had gotten tangled in the wheels, and were a broken mess of limb caught in the axle of the wheel. The driver was the only witness to her pulling herself from her legs. They had been severed from her thighs down, and she was bleeding terribly at this point.

However, the bleeding wasn't as bad as the driver had ever seen. What horrified him was the way she crawled back over to where her legs were hanging on the spokes of the wheel. Removing them carefully, she lined both back up in their rightful spots. She pulled out a needle and thread from her scalp, which looked to be very painful. If it was, the driver certainly hadn't seen it on her face. He nearly retched out the food he'd eaten at a tavern in town as she sewed her legs back on carefully.

It was a tricky business, but she was standing after a minute or so. With a stern warning and glare to the driver, she went on her way. (view spoiler)[The driver, of course, carried this tale with him to the next town and suddenly Morticia was famous. Because of how dark it was, however, the shaken man was only able to describe her as "the pale blonde beauty," and that's simply what she is known as. A number of people had thought her to be a Maid in White, but those were quickly discredited as what she could be after searching for her with men that were known to cheat. She's been carried on throughout the towns and villages, and has reached to the Centre, but she's completely oblivious to this tale. (hide spoiler)] This was only the prologue to similar instances, including a rendezvous with a serial killer with a fetish for arms. He'd heard the stories and wanted to utilize them to the fullest extent.

This said serial killer approached her the same way that the other men did, but with more finesse: he bought her flowers. Something so simple isn't very significant, but when those flowers are dead, things get interesting. He was charming as well, and that worked in his favor. She was still naive to ways of men, and gladly accepted his proposal after a few months of his pursuit. That must have been what turned him off to the game, because he then tried what had planned to do from the very beginning: take her arms.

She was more than just a little unhappy to wake up and find that her arms were strewn over a drunk man, who was quite vigorously having a one man love session. She still had a bit of affection for him, so rather than kill him, she knocked him out cold. That was one wet dream he'd be sure to remember, of course.

She sewed her arms back on and moved the hell out. No way was she going to have to do that again, repeatedly.
No.


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❝‘Cause she’s a cruel mistress
And a bargain must be made❞

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❝Over the Love❞

Morticia returned home shortly after the fiasco of the serial killer, only to leave again when she feared for her parents. Well, more so concern than fear. She thought that he would come back to their home looking for Morty, so she packed up and went elsewhere. She didn't, however, leave until she was thoroughly educated in her species and well versed in the art of necromancy. She excelled at it, as her brother had before her. Petrus went with her as she left.

Now she's here, after separating with her brother.
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❝Are you--are you sleeping? How about you die tonight? Yes, that sounds like a plan to me❞

{Part III}

wonderful trait if used outside of her mannerism. Plenty of people have given her cold looks, or called her out for poking at something that think she shouldn't. She, however, carefully disregards them and moves on with her life. Er, undeadness.

Mind of a lion, soul of a lamb
(view spoiler)[Empathy can be divided into two major components:
Emotional empathy, also called affective empathy: the drive to respond with an appropriate emotion to another's mental states. Our ability to empathize emotionally is supposed to be based on emotional contagion:being affected by another's emotional or arousal state.
Cognitive empathy: the drive to identify another's mental states. The term cognitive empathy and theory of mind are often used synonymously.
Although science has not yet agreed upon a precise definition of these constructs, there is consensus about this distinction. There is a difference in disturbance of effective versus cognitive empathy in different psychiatric disorders. Psychopathy, schizoid personality disorder, depersonalization and narcissism are characterized by impairments in emotional empathy but not in cognitive empathy, whereas bipolar disorder, borderline, and, by some accounts, autistic traits are associated with deficits in cognitive empathy but not in emotional empathy. Also in people without mental disorders, the balance between emotional and cognitive empathy varies. A meta-analysis of recent fMRI studies of empathy confirmed that different brain areas are activated during affective–perceptual empathy and cognitive–evaluative empathy. Also a study with patients with different types of brain damage confirmed the distinction between emotional and cognitive empathy. Specifically, the inferior frontal gyrus appears to be responsible for emotional empathy, and the ventromedial prefrontal gyrus seems to mediate cognitive empathy.
Emotional empathy can be subdivided into:
Personal distress: the inclination to experience self-centered feelings of discomfort and anxiety in response to another's suffering.
Empathic concern: the inclination to experience sympathy and compassion towards others in response to their suffering. (hide spoiler)] Being empathetic is usually something you'd like to see from someone, but it can be dangerous. In Morticia's case, it is. She can place herself in the mindset of just about anyone, and often rejects interaction because of it. it brings her to the point of being borderline insane, with slight traces of a multiple personality disorder. This hasn't been taken note of, as the severing of emotional connections usually does the trick. Otherwise, she's open to being changed--drastically.

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❝And in the spring I shed my skin
And it blows away with the changing wind
The waters turn from blue to red❞
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❛ Likes ☇ ♛
• Necrophilia:
This is to be expected, and if you didn't see earlier, Morticia likes the dead things of life. Needless to say, she prefers these out of anything else. She's had to deal with them on a daily basis, and she's perfectly fine with that. She loves how the silence is like a conversation with them. You can tell a story with what you see before you, even if they're just little details. It's the best thing in the world, and sometimes people are better off in death than they are in life. Besides that, they make better company when you're feeling down and need to talk to someone.
• Nyctophilia:
Morticia loves the night. It holds all kinds of things. There can be danger and mystery, or maybe even romance to it. It's a very sentimental time for her, and she prefers to be out at this time. When the moon rises, the air is cooler and different characters come out to play. She finds this to be more interesting than the mundane, vain leftovers in the day time.
• Pediophilia:
No, this is not the love of little children. That, my confused friend, would be Pedophilia. This is entirely different. This philia is the love of dolls. It's an unusual past time, but Morticia loves to make dolls. This is actually passed down through her family, this skill, and there are a few creatures who are forever grateful for the little shops they set up for this. However, these dolls are human. They've been gutted and "dolled up" to look just right. The process between life and death, is more so a secret than you really know.
• Nemophilia:
This is her love of the woods. Morticia believes that you can find anything in the woods. If she had her way, she would live in a forest and never leave, but alas, civilization calls to her still. She thinks that the forest is where everything happens, every thing lives and dies in the nature of the trees. This is a liking that she'd had as a child, taking a plethora of walks in the calm silence of the trees. Many a time she had happened upon a dying creature, and taken it home to be revived. The forest is indeed filled with marvelous wonders in her eyes.
• Arachnophilia and Ornithophilia:
Spiders ad birds interest Morticia greatly. She can't get enough of them, and does just about everything possible to have one or the other around, sometimes both. She sees them are greater than the many other creatures around her, although they don't quite compare to the dead. To top things off, they often lead her to the dead. Package deal, right? You could say that her interests are a bit..perverse, but they're just part of her. No need for anyone to get their knickers in a bunch because she knows how to find spider colonies, and every bird call there is to know.

❛ Dislikes ☇ ♛
• Fire:
Fire can do a lot of damage when given the chance. It often times is what destroys a body to the point of corrupting every molecule with far too much oxygen than needed. It's a destructive force that can potentially end her life, er, undeadliness. It's also a means to destroy the things that she loves, and she won't tolerate it. Fire is most definitely not a friend of hers.
• Humans:
As much as it may be part of her job to kill them, she doesn't particularly like them. They annoy her greatly, and she wants nothing more than to see them all dead. Yes, they can make pretty corpses, but that's besides the point. What she doesn't like is the way they live their lives. They take too many things for granted, and it gets on her nerves. They don't treasure much of anything, unless they're one of the smart ones. Otherwise, they won't last long in her presence.
• Assumptions:
She hates 'em. Just can't stand it when people make assumptions to where she's form or what she does. They also seem to assume that she's not a good person based on her appearance. It's all fine and dandy until they actually accuse her of something. It leaves her seething with anger, and you really don't want that, trust me.



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❝Would you like to hear a story, fit for the dead?❞

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❝Mother Mine, Father Mine, I Do Believe It To Be Time❞

Before you can come to understand Morticia's history, you have to come to understand the Graves' family history. They have a peculiar history to look at, and must be handled delicately. It's terribly dreary, and riddled with enough tears to make the sweet perfume of sorrow to last a life time. To start, we must look into the life of the parents. The respective donors who created the magnificent Graves children:

Morgue Anne Cadviere and Decay Hemmorage Graves.

Morgue Anne was an only child in a family of undertakers. They traversed the globe in search of the prettiest corpses, the men in the family did. Among those many decaying brides was her mother. She was often falling to pieces, long before Morgue Anne was born. Her father did his best to patch her up nicely, just long enough for the sweet child to be born. When the labor was done, so was her mother.

Her father took her with him to many different places he needed to go. She grew to be a beautifully fair maiden, hair a red that had the shadings of black and skin a fair peach complexion. She was the most beautiful girl, where ever she went. She drew eyes and attention from just about everyone. What they were unaware of was the emotional abuse given to her by her father, as well as the physical. The cost having a necrophile and a corpse for parents is the knowledge you are given of how easily death comes. She spent her years of life with her father in constant fear of what he might do next.

Her only relief was the calming push of a needle through fabric. She handled the clothing for the corpses. She took her time to enjoy the simple craft, making a number of useful things that she still keeps. They've been passed down to Morticia, of course. However, her father was not so keen on such an action. He wanted his daughter to go out and marry a man who'd have her live a long life. He thought she had no need for such things.

Over the course of a year, she met with more suitors than she could count on her fingers. Whatever her father didn't like, as they were all human, he killed. There were a couple that Morgue Anne was more than happy see die. However, the worst one was the one her father loved the most. His name was of no relevance to her, because all she heard out of his mouth was Douchebag.

Her father happily accepted the young man, but Morgue Anne was more so reluctant to let him into her life. Without a mother, she didn't exactly have all the proper mannerisms that a lady needed in those times. Her fiancee was more than happy to point that out when he wanted to feel better about himself. He used terms so derogatory, I won't even bother to repeat them. Being a timid young lady, Morgue Anne did nothing but take the brunt.

But she snapped when he insulted her father.

She brutally murdered said fiancee, gutting him like cattle. That being said, it took her not very long to have the young man bleed out, but she wouldn't let it end at that. After slitting both his wrists and throat, she made sure to cut along the major blood veins. She wasn't so much excited by the sight of blood than she was to have killed the man. Her father, unfortunately for her, came in at just the wrong moment.

His anger was thrown at her full force, and she fought back. The end was result was her crying pitiful tears of dismay over the slowly cooling corpse that was once her father.



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❝Papa, Papa, tell me more❞

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❝Słodkie Dziecko, my story is not for the ears of a child❞

Morticia's father was another story cannot contrast from her mother's. He was born into a large family of children, but was left with two when the hunters first left their mark. They say the hardest thing a parent has to do is bury their child, but it's equally as hard for the other way around. Decay lost his father that an early age. The elder Graves had passed down the trade to his son: doll making.

These dolls came in different complexions, ages, and sizes. There was no discrimination when it came to choosing the right one, because there was no right one. They chose only who they thought to be suitable for the job, or was of the right time to go. Being a Graves has slightly more perks than one would think. Being able to smell when someone is close to death is among them. They chose only those who had not much time left to go, and made them the prettiest dolls to see.