Viewing profile - Vanya Valentine

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Vanya Valentine
Character
The Black Wolf
Level
01
25 / 25 HP
19 / 19 MP
0p / 0g / 0s / 50c
Experience:
0
Race:
Shapeshifter
Class:
Paladin and Rogue
Gender:
Female
Pronunciation:
Vahn-ya
Note:
Character inventory details are listed below.
Writer Name:
For more information, see Imagine Wagons.
Groups:

Physical Features

Height:
5ft11
Weight:
229lbs
Complexion:
Pale Alabaster
Hair:
Raven Black
Eyes:
Crystal Blue | Red Shifts

Social Interactions

Relationships and Companions

N/A

Personality

Oh tortured soul, a heart once pure of gold; Sorrow and grief have tarnished a once pure hope with the intoxicating bite of poisoned hate. Lethargic, the enigmatic presence bleeds through, corrupting, tearing asunder the perfected veil of purity and allowing the burning gire to seep within stalwart grace. It claws, digs to fester and bury deep under the skin, glissading skeletal fingers through malign carcass to permeate and destroy the innocence lost in cruel rapture. Though radiant and scorching upon first approach, malignant and vexing at a glance, there is still an unwavering kindness about her soul. Though she may try to be harsh, to be a thorough monstrosity for the simple sake of survival, she is unable, incapable within her programming to destroy so freely, to act so harshly to those who she seeks to guard even in her self imposed path to destroy herself. The noose around her neck as she succumbs to her dark impulses.

The fearful souls...those with no weapons to wield. She would so willingly become a martyr for them, a sacrificial lamb to be lead to slaughter to save but a single face, a solitary name and shield from the hardships which she herself once faced. Loss is something that never truly heals, an instigating pain that is never satiated by the passing ripples of time as so many assure. Comforting lies and fables are sweetly fallen from her devilish lips, along with bitter truths of the melodious affliction that slowly eats away at the spirit and weakens the body and poisons the mind.

Yes, she lies, she lies about her past, her present, and her future. She lies about her desires and she lies about her pain, thousands of stories to be told and very few of them ever being true. Though her masquerade hides well what lay 'neath the surface where she furiously struggles to simply stay afloat. Sleep eludes her, staying just a single step, tauntingly out of her desperate grasp some nights. It leaves her thoughts raw, each one like raking nails over open flesh to claw at the nerves hidden just out of sight.

Her mind is cruel, a sick repetition of traumatic nights playing without mercy in each dream she dares to seek. No longer does she yearn for the escape of reality, no longer does she wish to open her eyes to a new day, another wretched moment within this existence. A once pure and holy thing was stripped bare, ravaged ruthlessly by those that would see her perverted and destroyed; her hope, The loyal optimism had been torn from her youthful frame, a far more devastating occurrence than that which marred her flesh. Her body had mended, healed and all that remained upon it was the thin, ropy scar. Childish wonder and bemusement, however, had been slain in cold blood, a murder most foul.

In the end...we're all just...monsters, aren't we?

Religion

Belief:
Idolism
Idols:
Nilbein

Background

Age:
48
Origin:
Unknown
Residence:
Unknown
History

When people ask me about what i remember about that day i often tell them i remember nothing...that couldn't be further from the truth. I remember everything, everything about the day i was born...and the day i died. I was born, a fleeting glimpse of happiness, and of untold, bitter sorry left unquenchable to my father's pure and noble heart. My mother perished beneath the stars that night, a beautiful nova in her own right, I am always told. She was a virtuous maiden, a heavy heart and mind resting upon her judged both a gift and a curse, a flaw and perfection in the same breath. Our father raised us, little ones that had kept him connected with the former Huntress he had loved so endearingly, so tenderly that she was unsure of how such a thing was possible. Despite my birthing, I was raised a normal child, running, racing the wind and challenging the open fields outside of our immaculate home.

Deep within the outlands in which we dwelled, we carved ourselves anew in destiny. Blithe, untarnished faerie tale met an abrupt, horrifying ending. The smoggy trails of acrid smoke stroked the skies, the scent of burning, of death crept within my nostrils, burning my lungs until I spat it out in fervid acrimony and disgruntled dismissal. My family was fierce, warriors in their own right but on that dark day i can't quite comprehend how it all happened. In memoirs past, perhaps it truly was our own hubris, our own wretched fault for having commited so much sin. Mayhaps our deal with the devil had forsaken us to the ruination we now face. Our elders they stole from us, the women they reaped from us, and the children they buried within the hovel, shadows of their deepest nightmares. Their piercing screams rend me from the insides out, twisting gluttonous innards into a squirming mess of putrid snakes that claw their ways out with malignant torment.

In the blink of an eye, the flutter of sultry lashes, we were dying.

The Hunters had become The Hunted~

The trees are alight, and my people are dying. All around me, I hear them, screams, malignant remnants of past occurrences that refuse to leave my mind unhindered. The memories burn, and yet I cannot stop them from running my mind in unstoppable trek over and over again. I can still almost taste the smoke of the fires, I can feel the heat, the warmth of my blood as it drips across my flesh.

My back burns, but my whimpers, my cries of pain, have long since been silenced by the numbing slash of realization, of anguished knowing. Without even the slightest of news, the sorrowed looks of those who came to retrieve me spelled to my already grieving heart all that I need know. 'How- how many? How many are gone?' My voice caught within my throat, trapped bird wings helplessly beating against the cage of my ribs to escape past my lips in fluttering, fluctuating volume. Eventually, i found the bodies of my family, heads split from their bodies and mounted, stuffed...corpses disfigured as humans laid claim to their trophies... Among them, I recognize their frames, the broken, mangled corpses seared by fire and the glistening raze of tempestuous titania steel. Blood and burns. Pain and fear. They warped them, they perverted them. They were destroyed.

And I was alone.

They would never come back to me.

I was the only one left...i could feel it in my bones, but a wee child exposed to the horrors of the world firsthand.

To this day it is unclear to me how i managed to escape. Perhaps with aid from the outside or an opportune moment, but what i did know is that I was left to isolation. To wandering the crumbling kingdom that was self-destructing all around me. I was combed, groomed as the newest in generation of our cursed bloodline when I had had none of the tedious lessons of my eldest sister. She was supposed to be in my shoes, a proud, strong Huntress of composure and grace. She followed in the steps of our father, a benevolent man with an iron grip and a heart of fire.

He was impassioned, compassionate, driven - as was she. She deserved to be here, and I deserved to be with them, deep within the gaping maw of the starving earth. I can feel it even now, eager to consume me, to bury me within its embrace until I smother in a whole as I was with this now almost But instead...i was cut away from my family...from my pack.

I now live, a kind-hearted woman to those who know their place, but a foe to be reckoned with in my own right. No longer am I the naive child whom believed in the cherished stories of faerie tales woven and spun by my father to keep the wool placed fresh and tender over my innocent eyes. No. I am very well aware of the vicious world that lay before me, under me with merciless, gnashing maw, oh so eager to have me torn and strewn in bloody ruin upon the earth. A once soft femme had been warped, portrayed by the huntress moon as little more than nameless Artemis wrapped in the mirth of phantom shadows. A nameless, faceless fiend who prays upon those solitaire watch. No one stays safe from the blade of rapture and vengeance, a cruel fate that I have been condemned to. Within the shadows my blades of fury sing, a hymn of purest redemption, a sinister aria of tasted sanguine wine followed by the peaceful strum of delicate, damaged vocal chords.

They thought the hunt was over...but i can promise you this, oh audience mine. This is the beginning of the end...and i cant wait, to watch them burn.

Nothing Here Yet

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Joined:
June 20th, 2019, 1:35 pm
Last active:
May 17th, 2020, 8:42 pm
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