Post by MAGNUS KAEL BANE on Dec 11, 2009 19:36:49 GMT -5
the one i wish i knew!
[/size][/center]your name; kit-kat
your age; fifteen
your activity levels; active!
your rp level; literate. I can manage advanced, but I hate word-padding <3
the one i know!
[/center]characters name; Magnus Kael Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn
nicknames; Mag, Maggie, Warlock Bane
characters age; I'm around eight hundred years old, give or take a decade, but my physical being is only about nineteen. Forever a teenager. How lovely
grade; School? Honestly?
species; I am a warlock, thank you very much. And the High Warlock of Brooklyn to boot!
celeb/face claim; Alex McKee
picture;
appearance;
I hate to sound like a narcissistic punk, but I know that I'm rather attractive. I'm about five foot eleven inches when my hair isn't spiked up, and I weigh about one hundred and thirty-eight pounds. I'm rather light for a boy, but I have to bulky muscles to add to my weight, so that's probably why. I'm as thin as a rail, skinny and lithe, with a cat-like grace that isn't matched by many. My skin is a light golden tan, something I've been blessed with by my human roots. I'm half-Asian, if you haven't already guessed by my eyes that turn up at the corners. My pupils are slits like cat eyes, and a dark, dark green. My arms and legs are very skinny, with only a small amount of muscle on them. My waist is thin, and you can almost see my ribs when I'm shirtless. Oh, and I also have no navel. Aren't I marvelous?
Clothes are my one true love (besides Alec Lightwood). I love almost anything, as long as it's tight and has something cool on it. One of my favorite items in my wardrobe is my rainbow leather pants. Yes, you heard me correctly. I love wearing glitter, and I'll often spike my hair up, dumping the stuff into my locks. I paint my nails every single color of the rainbow and then some. I'll waste most of my money on clothes anywhere, from a designer on fifth avenue to a local thrift store. The plainest thing you'll catch me in is my pajamas, which are about as normal as most straight girls might wear. Haha.
personality;
Well, I'm a nice person, generally, if you look past my many personality flaws. I've got a sense of humor (even if it is a tad dark) and I love to laugh. I love listening to people laugh, especially my boyfriend, since you really have to earn an Alec laugh. I'm all over the place, excitable, and a tad eccentric. I love anything colorful, home decor, and buying clothes, as I stated above. I enjoy being sweet to people I care about, even if my compassion is described as 'tough love'. I'm very much into the guys, and I enjoy teasing people, even if Alec is my boyfriend. I just can't resist being a flirt.
My darker half is sarcastic almost all of the time. When I'm around most people, the snarky comments just keep coming. I've been told I'm a bit of a bitch, and that I should censor myself a bit more. The only people I really do shut up around are my boyfriend's parents, since they're still getting used to the idea of me being a Downworlder, and me being a guy. Whatever. I don't mind. They're good people, anyways, right? Sort of. I hate the cold, and damp, dark spaces. I have a phobia of needles and sharp objects. The Nephelim also scare me pretty bad, what with their City of Bones. Even if the Silent Brothers are dead, I still have nightmares about them. I'm a proud creature. I hate being told what to do, and will rebel against it in a second. I'm a bit angsty, I'll admit, but what teen isn't? I'm wise beyond my physical age, being over eight hundred years old, and I'll often spill words of enlightenment. I'm self-centered, selfish, mean, uncaring, and an outright bad person a lot of the time. But hey, nobody's perfect!
history;
When I was born, a half-demon, half-human mistake, my mother (a young teen at the time) screamed in horror at what I was. She was terrified of me, even at my young age. She couldn't look at me, wouldn't hold me like most mothers do. My grandparents couldn't see what I really was, being Sightless as well as half-blind like most of the older mundanes back then. My father (a human, and not my biological one) hated me. He was scared of me, too, I knew that, but instead of cowering like my dear mother, he was violent. He hit me, and yelled, verbally and physically abusing me. He knew I wasn't human, he knew I wasn't his child, either. He'd scream and rave, smacking me whenever he got the chance. No one dared to stop him, and no one minded that the little freak child was being beat into submission. I may have been just a child, but I was already considered a monster.
At the young age of ten, I ran away from home, unable to stand being abused any longer. I ran into a warlock in town, who took me in as his apprentice and he treated me better than I'd ever been treated. He didn't yell at me, didn't hit me. He didn't even look at me with fear in his eyes, but understanding. I was kept as a sort of pet, pampered and cared for. I called him 'Master', like the servants he had around the mansion did, but he insisted I call him by his real name. I learned under him for many years, never really feeling a need to live his protection, never wanting to see what was going on on the outside. He told me that he loved me, which I didn't understand. I'd never heard those words before I met him, not aimed towards me, at least. When I turned nineteen, I learned exactly what he'd meant by saying 'I love you'. And I told myself I loved him back, every night as he took me into his bedroom and made love to me. I didn't understand what was going on, seeing as he was both my lover and my father, and I'd never had any sort of interaction with the outside world, even with my human parents. I was happy with him, or what I thought was 'happy'.
The Nephilim ruined it all. They came in one night, and swept the house clean of every single member of the house, except for me, who'd been in the basement the entire time, having fallen asleep down there with one of my Master's tomes. In the morning, I went upstairs, heading for his bedroom to apologize for going missing for the night and sleeping downstairs. Everywhere I looked, there was blood, and bodies. I'd learned what death was when I had first arrived, and my heart twisted into knots as I ran the rest of the way to my Master. He was there, laying on his bed, a stele plunged through his chest. I stayed there and cried for three whole days, curled up against his cold, lifeless body. Then I eventually got up the nerve to clean out the house, burning the bodies, my Master going last after a kiss to his dead lips. I took all that I needed from the house and burned it, too, not needing the memories of the last week I'd spent in there.
I moved to London and remained there for a few decades, getting mixed up in only a few human issues. I headed to New York in the end of the 1800's, and became the High Warlock of Brooklyn not long after for my exceptional skills in the art of magic.
Last year was when my new life officially started, upon meeting Alec Lightwood at a birthday party for my cat, Chairman Meow. I didn't exactly enjoy the Jace boy trying to get me to poke around in his little girlfriend's head (it was so obvious but the way he looked at her), and I tried to stay focused on what I was supposed to be doing. The dark-haired one was just too cute. I slipped my number in the back of his pants and told him to call me after the party. He was obviously in love with the Jace boy, but what was I supposed to do? I'm a shameless flirt with a hopeless romantic side as an added bonus. He called me a few days later and eventually we started dating. Yes, I was afraid of getting into another relationship, since Alec would only be my second, but I tried. And yes, I did fall in love with him, but it felt more real with Alec. More natural. We broke up for a while during the war, mostly because (a) he refused to acknowledge me as his boyfriend, sine he was still 'in the closet', as it were, (b) he's a stubborn ass, and (c) I may have refused to answer his calls for a week or so. But it's mostly his fault.
Now the war was a bit fun for me, since I adore public displays of affection and Alec pretty much 'came out' to every single Nephilim that hadn't died yet. Fighting alongside my love was just wonderful, even if I despise fighting and bloodshed. I hated seing Alec so miserable after he discovered that dear little Max had died and did my best to make him smile again, even telling him that I loved him constantly, so he'd never forget it.
Life after the war is as bland as ever. the only think interesting I keep hearing is that Clarissa Fray's actual brother is still running around. I can't wait to see what that half-breed stirs up around here.
sexual preference; homosexual, baby!
family; my mother and father are no longer with me...
pets; chairman meow
those random skills!
rp sample;[/size]
For my character Cyanide Edaniel WulfCyanide curled up into a ball, trying to find some part of him that would let him sleep. The bed was comfy, and the cold of the outdoors wasn’t leaking into the apartment. The dog was even asleep. So why couldn’t he? Maybe it was because it was too quiet, the only sound the snoring puppy and his own heart, hammering much too fast for comfort. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered how mad Licah would get if he went out and bought some glow-in-the-dark star stickers. His bedroom was just so boring, it was hard to stay in. If he had his way, his own makeup and clothes would be pretty much everywhere, and the white walls would be an explosion of color. He sighed. Licah would hate that. And he hated upsetting him. Which was odd, since he was more of a pet than a roommate. Or, that’s what it had been about three weeks or so ago. He’d decided that it would be fun to go home with the boy, and now… “I wonder what dad would say about this,” he murmured to himself, then laughed at the utter hilarity of it. His father didn’t really like the idea that he loved everyone, no matter the gender, but especially boys. Oh well. It’s not like Drake could come and scold him, since it was still 2009 and the man that would be his father in the future was still locked up in that Asylum. He sat up and sighed, pushing the blankets off his body and onto the floor. He’d pick them up later, he told himself.
Cy walked around the bedroom in nothing but his boxers for the next half hour, trying to locate a full outfit to wear out of the house. He knew it would be cold, so he dressed as best he could for the weather, failing miserably. He couldn’t even find his shoes for a good ten minutes before he found the remains of one under a chair. Stupid dog. He glared at it’s sleeping form and resisted the urge to kick it. He didn’t want the tracker any more pissed at him than he already was. It wasn’t good to push your luck with someone like him. Licah was dangerous when he got angry. Cy had seen it, but never actually experienced it himself. He sighed, wondering when his love would get home. He curled up on the couch, playing with the tassels on his hat, trying to make the hours disappear without jumping; he didn’t need anymore bruises from his power. He closed his eyes, counting backward from twenty, breathing slowly as the world faded into black…
Cyanide’s eyes opened when he heard keys in the lock, the bolts turning. His first thoughts were, Wow, I actually fell asleep, before the panic of someone possibly breaking in was set loose into his body. He squeaked and climbed over the back of the couch, fishing around in one of the drawers before he located a pocket knife. He frowned, but flicked it open, advancing on the door, his whole nervous system on high alert. His eyes were glued on the doorknob as it turned, impossibly slow. As the door creaked open, his eyes went up the hand and the arm attached to it, finding Licah’s face at the top. Cy grinned, dropped the knife, and flung his arms around the tracker, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Welcome home, my love,” he said with a grin.
were you recruited by anyone? if so, who/how'd you find us?;; an advertisment on Nevermore and The Asylum
APPLICATION TEMPLATE [ C ] holy fiddlesticks, BATMAN ?!
