Lokta

Name: Lokta

Nickname: Loki

Main Time Period: Past or Present

From: Otherworld (Another Dimension)

Height: 5'6''

Classification: Mineral Mage

Body Build: Pear shaped, wide curvy hips, a relatively small chest (smaller side of a B cup), thin but not ultra skinny with still a bit of baby fat.

Age: Unsure, but quite young as far as faeries are concerned. Looks about 18 or 19.

Species: Faerie

Personality: She's a bit of a dork, very goofy and says really stupid things. She's usually a big scaredy cat, only brave when her friends are with her and even then only when the task is nothing dangerous. New people make her anxious, and most new experiences as well if there is a chance that she'll be judged based on her performance. Can be really diligent when doing something she wants to do, but usually she's really lazy. She's most always nice and friendly, but if a person very seriously hurts her she will block them off completely.

Physical Description: Lokta's hair is curly and coloured several shades of lavender, streaked with a soft light blue throughout though it appears more like a glimmer in the light than highlights would. She has bright turquoise eyes, pointed ears, and a peachy skin tone.

Background Story: In Otherworld, there is an overwhelming amount of animosity between faerie folk and humans. They are not truly at war, but both kinds hunt each other, committing murders when they can. Not all faeries are like this, many still against it, but the majority do not think twice about killing humans. Due to the fact faeries only unlock their true strength when they 'wed' (in which they bond themselves with other faeries and, at rare occasions, other magical beings), when fairies become of age most are forced into arranged marriages to promote survival. (Faeries also share some magical abilities of their partners.)

Lokta met her 'fiancé' only twice, but from those two encounters alone she could sense his sadistic nature, knowing at once he would be a horrible partner. But her parents dismissed her concerns, insisting that he was her closest to perfect match magically. But she couldn't agree with that. Scared of him, the marriage, and the future they would lead to, Lokta ran away from the faerie court. At the edge of the forest that the faerie court hid in, lived an old witch. She made a bargain with Lokta in which she agreed to help her escape, but only if Loki gave her some of her faerie powers. The old witch sent her away to the 'otherside' (our world) leaving Loki alone in a foreign environment. Naturally, she was very scared.

Present Life: Slugging it out in the modern world.

Other: Iron completely nulls her magic and stops her from using it temporarily. (It does not give her orc face, star... ilu xD)
Like all faeries, she is 'allergic' to pure salt, (though she can still eat and come into contact with impure salt with no side effects). If it touches her skin, it causes her to itch and, if exposure is prolonged, can cause burns.
Her type of magic lets her manipulate wood and metals and minerals, but because she gave up some of it to the witch, her abilities are much more lacking than normal.



(image base by Star. ♥ I just added junk)

Pepper Collins

Main Time Period: Present

From: U.S.A.

Height: 5'7'' (longer legs than upper half of body)

Classification: Bitch

Body build: Large chest, long legs, straight rather than curvy hip/waist area, and slightly plump upper arms.

Age: 18-20 depending on the RP

Species: Human

Personality: Can be hot-headed, but generally very sociable to nice people. Very bitchy, but a loyal friend.

Physical Description: Bright red hair, slightly tanned skin, and soft grey-blue eyes. She has a few signature items that she wears usually: a dark blue zebra print scarf, an almost transparent zebra print jacket, and/or pink or black flats.

Background Story: Just a typical high school graduate. She took a year off before college to get a taste of the real world and 'find herself', though she often regrets the decision.

Present life: The city she stays in varies depending on the RP. Usually she works in an ice-cream or a candy shop with her best friend Jamie.

Other: Love Italian food. Likes to play-argue if she is comfortable around said person.

Eternità

(Yeah. There's sex in this. BI )
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It had been several months since Drite had arrived at Roran's former mentor's house in the Kurai realm. Drite had taken in his surroundings before focusing on the old man, noting dully that it was less "exciting" than he'd imagined Hell ought to be. (Roran's mentor told him later that they were separated from the more chaotic part of the Kurai realm). Roran's mentor looked old, 60's or 70's from the look of it, but Drite got the impression immediately that he was much much older. Drite's sarcastic and smart-ass nature got him into a lot of trouble with the old incubus. His snarky comments were not tolerated, Maestro, as Drite had come to call him after a few vicious beatings at names like "Pops", countered such comments and names with an 'ass-whooping' and Drite quickly learned to hold his tongue. Though Drite was internally frustrated with being treated this way, Drite did come to respect and admire his teacher.

Though the lack of plumbing in the first few weeks was a bit more than inconvenient (Roran's mentor installed plumbing soon after Drite arrived), Drite couldn't say he didn't, at least somewhat, enjoy his stay. There were unpleasant instances, particularly in the first weeks when Drite was building up a resistance to physical pain. But he had learned quite a bit, about fighting, but about other things too. He'd told Drite much about the Hikari and Kurai, and also about Roran and Ronin. He wouldn't budge on the subject of Starlight and Roran's relationship, so Drite didn't persist too much. Though Drite did ask about Ryouta, recalling both encounters as he spoke to him. Roran's mentor told him that he wasn't even close to a match and should "Just give up now." Though Drite nagged a bit, in the case that he ran into Ryouta again, and he gave him some advice, though it wasn't what Drite really wanted to hear.

In addition to helping Drite learn to fight with his whip and short sword, the old incubus gave him another weapon: a Kurai firearm. It looked a lot like and old western magnum, though blockier, and when cocked, dark tendrils of kurai energy shot into his arm, connecting with nerve endings. It was very painful, though Drite was pretty good about the pain, flinching a bit with a slight grimace but able to handle it.

Drite also worked more on controlling his magic, the sort of Otherworld. It was strange and harder to manipulate in the Kurai realm, but that was really what helped Drite to control it better.

For Drite's final exam as an Arms wielder and a fighter, the tutor instructed Drite to find the gate home. Which sounded horribly like some kind of 'quest' to Drite, though it was worse when he realised it was a quest. Drite left, a little miffed at the whole 'quest' business, but glad to leave all the same. He missed Starlight terribly. Being separated from her made him more irritable than usual, though he was careful not to direct it at the Maestro. He was glad that he'd be seeing her again.

--

Llamas with Hats

Never before has something so epic been experienced.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpjyH-LkEAg

Doesn't it just fill your heart with a sick happiness?

Valse de l'automne

It was almost like he could feel Summer being stripped away. The sun had past just beyond the tips of the distant treetops, and a gentle coolness descended over the sticky warmth of the day. Nothing but a calm breeze skimmed the night air, whisking the stray hairs out away from his mask. Drite reached up to re-secure the mutinous strands, attention focused on the crowd approaching. He unfolded the kite in his hands, a delicate, fiery coloured moth, and waited.

Near perfect conditions tonight.

Showtime, Drite thought none too excitedly.

As the crowd came within thirty feet of him, he cast up his first kite, sending it diving towards them, cork-screwing up above their heads before it came too close. The adults always assumed it was a parlor trick, kites flying without strings, but the children, they just knew it had to be magic. Their faces turned up in shear disbelief as his kite dived and darted above their heads.

Pure wonder. A ghost of a smile crossed Drite's lips, remembering how it felt to wonder, the warm glow deep down, knowing that there must be something more. He let the kite drop into the outstretched hands of a small boy. The boy stared at it, shocked and delighted to be holding the paper creature, and began to examine it, sure he could find the trick.

Drite bent down and pulled his second kite from its case, unfolding it. A cool coloured dragonfly unfurled in his hands. He whipped it out into the sky, sleeker and faster than the moth, sending it whirring towards a dark haired youth. They dress so oddly these days, Drite thought to himself, as the teen jumped aside to avoid the paper craft, and he heard the children behind him chortle happily. Drite smiled as the dragonfly returned to him. He turned, and reached a hand out towards the little boy, asking for his kite back. The boy, frustrated he couldn't figure out the mysterious kite, handed it back to him ruefully. Drite ruffled his hair with a few free fingers, and sent the kites back into the air.

Crouched in the high boughs of a tree, Jacqueline watched the little performance, still working to sum up this... intruder. The circus hadn't bothered her. The circus was in a tent. Jacqueline was not fond of tents and... cramped spaces. Pavilion they called it sometimes, she heard. But it was closed, and no matter how grand it may be, there was no changing it's closedness. But he, this little magician, he had stood on her ground, soiling it with his magic. Her eyes flashed in the dark, catching the light of the nearest booth. He was attractive, that she couldn't dispute or forget. All she knew was that she must have him, must dispose of him, before she felt comfortable returning home.

A line had formed at the ticket booth, and Drite's audience grew less. His small kite show was coming to an end.