Name: Azriel Brazenheart
Age: 18
Appearance:
Personality and Past: (It will be developed) As a member of the Protection Agency, Azriel has been hunting evil creatures since her parents were murdered by a group of demons when she was 12. Since her parents murder, she has been living with her uncle in the Protection Agency, training hard to vanquish the Earth of the ones that hurt her. Azriel is incredibly driven, confident; she has never faced a challenge she couldn't overcome. But, deep in her heart, she wants to be challenged, pushed to the point where she is almost snapped in two; she enjoys hunting because of the distraction it provides over the work. Saving people is just an added bonus on top of pushing her past down. She is fire, far too rash to react, her anger spreads throughout and quickly takes control. She likes to be in control of a situation and finds situations where she is powerless far too difficult to comprehend. There is only one demon she has struggled to capture and this RP will explore their game of cat and mouse.
Other: Skilled with a bow and a knife, prefers rooftops to the ground. Usually wears a mask when hunting. She doesn't like to show fear however, is afraid of failure and the past catching up to her
(First post upcoming then feel free to join as the demon she's hunting. I left it as ambiguous as possible but the world is set in kind of a steampunk victorian gothic kind of setting I tried to include images to explain) Look forward to writing! I like lengthy paragraphs and cruel, interesting antagonists so if you can fill this role in woohoo!
No acceptance of the demon character needed but would like a character profile so i can understand him and visualise him too. Please only join this if you're descriptive and enjoy tension between enemies!
Update: demon role has been filled!
She still thought about his scar. How satisfying. “Not very creative?” He pouted slightly, as if she had hurt his feelings, and then sniggered. “Well, too bad, doll. You’re the one stuck with it, at least until you die.”
He was strangely relieved to see the fire flashing in her eyes again. What was she thinking, acting so human in front of him? Didn’t she know that he would only mock her for it? Even such a one as this had her limits, he guessed.
His mind wandered off to his plan, the half-formed thing that had seemed tantalizing enough at the time to make him put off killing her. He wondered how much longer it would take before he tired of her. They were all the same in the end, just pitiful and weak at the core. She was surely no different. Demons were bitter and unholy, true, but at least they were strong. He lived through every day knowing that his time was limited, doomed to wander the earth, never wanted, always feared, collecting those lives which he could. If he could be honest in the smallest part of his mind, he would admit it was a petty thing to do. Demons had no soul, and no eternal inheritance to which to look forward. It was a kind of retribution that drove them to slaughter humans. It felt good knowing that even if he was destined for eternal torment, he possessed the power to make people’s lives utterly miserable. Not that humans needed much help being miserable. Disgusting things. They loved to hate each other and hurt each other. They would pretend to be your friend and turn on you in a flash. Even demons didn’t stoop to the same kind of backstabbing that humans loved to engage in. Wretched creatures. There had never been one that impressed him.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But he didn’t like to think about that one. He had been such an odd thing, anyway. Veteris wasn’t sorry that he killed him. Especially after hearing that name.
Once he sat her down, of course she tried to take her weapons back, but there wasn’t much fight left in her. She was tired. He still grinned at her as she tried to grab it. All it took was holding it just out of her reach. What fun. Her weapon was lovely, almost ironically so. Something so delicate-looking used for killing. Much like her. But S.C. meaning nothing? She was an excellent hunter, but a sub-par liar. If it was nothing, why make sure to call it out? Was her last name shared with that mystery person, then? He frowned a little at the thought. Maybe she was married, and didn’t like anyone to know. Sounded like something a human would do.
Her gratitude made him pause in confusion, but in the next moment she had whirled on him with a blade. “Nice way of thanking me.” He laughed, delighted, at she pulled the razor on him. “If you feel like slitting my throat, you’d better make sure my blood doesn’t hurt you more than it has.” He was a little miffed when she dropped it, obviously weary. “Well, fine then,” he sneered. “Don’t make it interesting.”
He was about to complain some more when she started unbuttoning her top. A slender neck came into view, and graceful collarbones freckled with light brown. He grinned at the burn on her arm. This was the second obvious mark he had on her. So much for S.C.
She was clever, so he momentarily debated talking to her about the Wendigo’s abilities. Not that the creature had much in common with his kind, but he wouldn’t put it past her to try to worm some critical information out of him. “Well, the legends say that most infernal beings are remnants of humanity. With unpleasant ones like that, you can bet they did something pretty nasty in their past lives. Wendigos are supposedly those who turned to consumption of human flesh.” He waved a thing finger at her. That’s only for demons, you know. So when they died, they became creatures bound to live in agony, always looking for their next meal. Of course, everything has its upsides. Cursed to always crave humanity, they are unnaturally attuned to their inner thoughts. They use the painful memories to weaken their prey, or to lure them in. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that have followed the sound of a Wendigo’s voice just because they sounded like dear old Grandpa.” He grinned malevolently. “But of course, they’re mostly confined to the spirit realm. They really don’t get out that much.” At her next question, he cocked his head to the side. “Dear, I’m not like you, remember? My mind doesn’t constantly reflect on the past. You humans are always collecting history. I live in the moment; those things don’t drag me down.” A lie, again. How was she so good at asking just the right questions to make him uneasy? “Besides, I’m a spirit creature too, so I’ve got some protection. Not a walking open book like your kind.”
Cain. Veteris scowled. He hated his kind as much as he hated himself, but that one was a special breed of despicable. “You shouldn’t bother telling me. I don’t do sympathy,” he told her, voice surprisingly muted. “That sounds like Cain, alright. Sick freak. But I don’t know about killing him, doll. He’s one of those upper-level demons. Your agency is trying to save your life.”
Wrapping his arm around her and dragging her up against his side, he chuckled at her stiffness. It was clear from her face that she wanted to be anywhere but sitting there with him. This was almost as much fun as fighting her. “Catch forty winks.” He held back from mocking her human weakness, knowing that she would likely refuse to sleep at all. “Unless you want to die from lack of sleep. I’d laugh you into the afterlife.”