06-28-2014, 08:20 PM
Character Name: Serena Morrigan
Age: 20
Origin: New York City
Occupation/Skills: Serena is a homeless drug addict; however, she used to be one of the top dancers at an underground club
Psychological Description: She has an addictive personality, and she tends to be manipulative. Serena is mischievious, and one can often tell by what seems like a spark ignited behind her eyes. Her sense of humour can often be odd, and sometimes dark
Physical Description: She stands at 5 feet 2 inches, which she often hides by wearing high heeled boots that come to her knees. She has a small build, and often attempts to accentuate the curves she has but wearing a long, tight-fitted coat, that buttons just below her chest. She contains pixie-like qualities, her eyes are emerald in colour and slightly tilted, and her hair is short, blue and black
Powers: Channeler
Current Strength Level: 6
Potential Strength Level: 21
Experience Level: New
Reborn God: The Morrigan- Triple Goddess. First Incarnation: Maeve
Biography:
Tilted emerald eyes stared up at what could be seen of the starlight, between two large brick buildings. A glaze deadened them from their usual mischievous spark, as they searched the night sky. There was something out there, something bigger than her, something she seemed to be grasping at her entire life. But what? This can’t be it. Cool, wet bricks seemed to support the deadweight of her small body, as if it was the only thing keeping her from sinking into the ground. She willed it, weakly, to happen. Slowly, her heavy lids closed, merely to blink, and it seemed like a great feat in itself.
Just die, already! She cursed herself silently, and tried to move the muscles in her neck to shake her head in disbelief and it caused a series of cramps to erupt along her spine and shoulders.
Ok, no moving. Moving is bad.
The small woman let out a soft snort, and her lungs seemed to burn with the same pain that had wracked her back. Then it happened, the emptiness, the chills, sweating profusely, the uncontrollable convulsing and cramping of her legs, and the familiar stinging need. She opened her mouth to scream, and nothing came out. She tried to turn to her side, pulling her legs to her chest, and whimpered as she clasped her arms together, cradling herself in the fetal position.
“No…” She managed a moan, and she ached to feel, to cry, but she couldn’t. She was the shell of a human, breathing other people’s air, merely existing just to get her next fix.
Twenty years of life on this earth, and this is what it had come to. Laying practically unconscious in dark alleyways, yearning for a substance that would take her away from all of this. It would wash away the pain, physical AND emotional.
Once, she had had a family, and a glorious job that made her feel like a celebrity. The young woman closed her eyes, attempting to hold onto her memories, but only caught glimpses of the positive moments, and recalled with a movie-like quality, the pain and anguish of so many others.
Serena’s family had originated in Ireland, and had immigrated to the United States fifty years before she had been born, long before the tumultuous and unpredictable natural disasters had begun to consistently tear at the world. She had been born into a middle class family, both parents were kind, hard-working individuals.Her older sister was the type that was good at everything she did, especially scholastically. Serena had been the troublemaker, the athlete, the “artistic” one. She never finished anything, even if she was incredibly good at it.
The Morrigans were Wiccan, and practiced their craft in a small community of gatherers in upstate New York. They had freedom, as long as they kept their practice to themselves. Serena had never questioned their faith, it was what they had always done. As far as she knew, she was part of a line of hereditary witches, that traced back as far as what she had learned of the Inquisition and Witch Trials. She knew she had had ancestors that had been burned at the stake, and that was all that she needed to fuel her fire to keep her faith.
It was not until she was 17, that she learned how dangerous it was to be Wiccan. Her faith and family were hunted, and now, all she could recall was the heat of the flames licking at her window pain, crawling up the walls, and she...running faster than the wind, only to look back at her sister’s face, gasping for air, hand outstretched clawing for someone to help her...And Serena, did not.
A week later, the small teenager found herself sick, feverish, and leaning against a cool brick wall in the heart of New York City. A young man had taken her in, thinking she was withdrawing from a binge. He took care of her, nursed her back to health, and implanted the glorious of dreams of fame, fortune and beauty into her mind. He promised her wealth, and the love of many. He promised her the magical world of the underground. She could become whatever character she wanted, as long as she danced.
And so it was, for the next two years, Serena became a beautiful blue haired pixie, adorned with wings and sparkling with glitter. She had always been able to dance, and moved her body in the most seductive of ways, always in tune with the music. She became a celebrity in the underground club scene, and she reveled in every moment. The magic, they mystery of each night was never enough for her, until she was given a small little pill, and that was all it took…
Her journey within was even more tumultuous, than the one without. Her disease of addiction, increased with every pill, line, or needle. All she cared about towards the end, was her next fix. She could not eat, sleep, or function without something to take her out of her own mind. It was her constant search, her need for something greater. As the rest of the world was wracked by earthquakes, floods, political uprisings, civil wars, she became too withdrawn to see anything past her own eyelids. She was selfish, ruthless, manipulative and bitterly lost.
It was to this end, coming to in the alleyway, where she ended up. One last hurrah, that should have killed her, but didn’t. Here she lay, cold, alone, hungry, and completely unaware of any other danger than herself.
“Well, hello there, little lady.”
Serena shivered, and slowly opened her eyes, standing above her were two large men. One grinning a slimy, greedy smile; The other, straddling over her curled legs, twirling a knife in his hands.
Whimpering, Serena shook her head. “Please, don’t.”
The man standing over her, reeked of alcohol, stale urine, and sweat. He grasped at her short raven and blue coloured hair, his thick fingers tugging on it, so her head lifted off the ground.
“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be laying all exposed out here.” He traced a chubby finger down her luminescent cheek.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Serena looked up at the full moon, peering out from behind the roof of one of the buildings next to her. She closed her eyes tightly, and bit down on her cheek. The rusty taste of blood dancing around her tongue.
“Aw, look at that. So easy, not even a struggle.” The raspy voice of the first man, crept closer to her, and his breath was thick in her ear, causing her to shudder.
A strong hand grasped at her left leg and pulled it away from her other one. The man that had whispered in her ear had moved to the lower part of her body, and his thick fingers reached their way up to her thigh.
Serena screamed silently, infuriated and afraid.
And for the first time, in a long time, the young pixie-like woman reached out. Goddess, if you are still there, if you still even exist. Help me….NOW! Something seemed to well inside of her, it grew with each thought, each feeling she fed into it. It swirled within every part of her body, her mind filled with ecstasy, with inexplicable joy, with what felt like the strength of the Gods she had only read about. She slammed her fists into the ground, and let out a growl. The bricks erupted around her, and tossed her assailants back against the wall. Concentrating, the pools of water, that had filled in the alley from the earlier rainstorm rippled, and the gutters on the building shook, as she lashed out towards the men with her hands. Water seemed to seep out from the earth, the air, and a loud crash from an erupting fire hydrant echoed in the night. She felt alive, a power coursing through her veins that she could never have injected there. A spiral of water, like a strange oceanic tornado, plummeted towards the large men, pushing them back into the street, into traffic.
Quickly, she turned to run, leaving the devastation behind her. Sprinting, her legs seemed to carry her with her new found strength, however momentary it would be, she did not know; but, she ran until she no longer could. She immersed herself in the concrete jungle.
In a weeks time, she found herself dragging her feet, running her hands along the same cool bricks of the alleyway. She pressed herself against the building wall, and sunk down to a crouching position. Tremors engulfed her body once more, her eyes burned with fever, and she leaned forward to empty her stomach. Shaking her head in disbelief, she smirked as she thought how ironic it had been that she had not taken a single drug, nor injected anything since that night. The pure, invigorating euphoria she had tapped into could not be compared, and now, she was still suffering from what felt like withdrawal symptoms.
Dizzy, she leaned forward to empty her stomach again, tears forming in her eyes, she wretched uncontrollably. A gentle hand reached out to her, and ran soft fingers through her hair. A cold, wet cloth was applied to her neck, and a soft voice spoke to her,
“Come, child. There is much I have seen, and much you must learn. There are others like you…”
Edited by Serena Morrigan, Jun 28 2014, 08:55 PM.
Age: 20
Origin: New York City
Occupation/Skills: Serena is a homeless drug addict; however, she used to be one of the top dancers at an underground club
Psychological Description: She has an addictive personality, and she tends to be manipulative. Serena is mischievious, and one can often tell by what seems like a spark ignited behind her eyes. Her sense of humour can often be odd, and sometimes dark
Physical Description: She stands at 5 feet 2 inches, which she often hides by wearing high heeled boots that come to her knees. She has a small build, and often attempts to accentuate the curves she has but wearing a long, tight-fitted coat, that buttons just below her chest. She contains pixie-like qualities, her eyes are emerald in colour and slightly tilted, and her hair is short, blue and black
Powers: Channeler
Current Strength Level: 6
Potential Strength Level: 21
Experience Level: New
Reborn God: The Morrigan- Triple Goddess. First Incarnation: Maeve
Biography:
Tilted emerald eyes stared up at what could be seen of the starlight, between two large brick buildings. A glaze deadened them from their usual mischievous spark, as they searched the night sky. There was something out there, something bigger than her, something she seemed to be grasping at her entire life. But what? This can’t be it. Cool, wet bricks seemed to support the deadweight of her small body, as if it was the only thing keeping her from sinking into the ground. She willed it, weakly, to happen. Slowly, her heavy lids closed, merely to blink, and it seemed like a great feat in itself.
Just die, already! She cursed herself silently, and tried to move the muscles in her neck to shake her head in disbelief and it caused a series of cramps to erupt along her spine and shoulders.
Ok, no moving. Moving is bad.
The small woman let out a soft snort, and her lungs seemed to burn with the same pain that had wracked her back. Then it happened, the emptiness, the chills, sweating profusely, the uncontrollable convulsing and cramping of her legs, and the familiar stinging need. She opened her mouth to scream, and nothing came out. She tried to turn to her side, pulling her legs to her chest, and whimpered as she clasped her arms together, cradling herself in the fetal position.
“No…” She managed a moan, and she ached to feel, to cry, but she couldn’t. She was the shell of a human, breathing other people’s air, merely existing just to get her next fix.
Twenty years of life on this earth, and this is what it had come to. Laying practically unconscious in dark alleyways, yearning for a substance that would take her away from all of this. It would wash away the pain, physical AND emotional.
Once, she had had a family, and a glorious job that made her feel like a celebrity. The young woman closed her eyes, attempting to hold onto her memories, but only caught glimpses of the positive moments, and recalled with a movie-like quality, the pain and anguish of so many others.
Serena’s family had originated in Ireland, and had immigrated to the United States fifty years before she had been born, long before the tumultuous and unpredictable natural disasters had begun to consistently tear at the world. She had been born into a middle class family, both parents were kind, hard-working individuals.Her older sister was the type that was good at everything she did, especially scholastically. Serena had been the troublemaker, the athlete, the “artistic” one. She never finished anything, even if she was incredibly good at it.
The Morrigans were Wiccan, and practiced their craft in a small community of gatherers in upstate New York. They had freedom, as long as they kept their practice to themselves. Serena had never questioned their faith, it was what they had always done. As far as she knew, she was part of a line of hereditary witches, that traced back as far as what she had learned of the Inquisition and Witch Trials. She knew she had had ancestors that had been burned at the stake, and that was all that she needed to fuel her fire to keep her faith.
It was not until she was 17, that she learned how dangerous it was to be Wiccan. Her faith and family were hunted, and now, all she could recall was the heat of the flames licking at her window pain, crawling up the walls, and she...running faster than the wind, only to look back at her sister’s face, gasping for air, hand outstretched clawing for someone to help her...And Serena, did not.
A week later, the small teenager found herself sick, feverish, and leaning against a cool brick wall in the heart of New York City. A young man had taken her in, thinking she was withdrawing from a binge. He took care of her, nursed her back to health, and implanted the glorious of dreams of fame, fortune and beauty into her mind. He promised her wealth, and the love of many. He promised her the magical world of the underground. She could become whatever character she wanted, as long as she danced.
And so it was, for the next two years, Serena became a beautiful blue haired pixie, adorned with wings and sparkling with glitter. She had always been able to dance, and moved her body in the most seductive of ways, always in tune with the music. She became a celebrity in the underground club scene, and she reveled in every moment. The magic, they mystery of each night was never enough for her, until she was given a small little pill, and that was all it took…
Her journey within was even more tumultuous, than the one without. Her disease of addiction, increased with every pill, line, or needle. All she cared about towards the end, was her next fix. She could not eat, sleep, or function without something to take her out of her own mind. It was her constant search, her need for something greater. As the rest of the world was wracked by earthquakes, floods, political uprisings, civil wars, she became too withdrawn to see anything past her own eyelids. She was selfish, ruthless, manipulative and bitterly lost.
It was to this end, coming to in the alleyway, where she ended up. One last hurrah, that should have killed her, but didn’t. Here she lay, cold, alone, hungry, and completely unaware of any other danger than herself.
“Well, hello there, little lady.”
Serena shivered, and slowly opened her eyes, standing above her were two large men. One grinning a slimy, greedy smile; The other, straddling over her curled legs, twirling a knife in his hands.
Whimpering, Serena shook her head. “Please, don’t.”
The man standing over her, reeked of alcohol, stale urine, and sweat. He grasped at her short raven and blue coloured hair, his thick fingers tugging on it, so her head lifted off the ground.
“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be laying all exposed out here.” He traced a chubby finger down her luminescent cheek.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Serena looked up at the full moon, peering out from behind the roof of one of the buildings next to her. She closed her eyes tightly, and bit down on her cheek. The rusty taste of blood dancing around her tongue.
“Aw, look at that. So easy, not even a struggle.” The raspy voice of the first man, crept closer to her, and his breath was thick in her ear, causing her to shudder.
A strong hand grasped at her left leg and pulled it away from her other one. The man that had whispered in her ear had moved to the lower part of her body, and his thick fingers reached their way up to her thigh.
Serena screamed silently, infuriated and afraid.
And for the first time, in a long time, the young pixie-like woman reached out. Goddess, if you are still there, if you still even exist. Help me….NOW! Something seemed to well inside of her, it grew with each thought, each feeling she fed into it. It swirled within every part of her body, her mind filled with ecstasy, with inexplicable joy, with what felt like the strength of the Gods she had only read about. She slammed her fists into the ground, and let out a growl. The bricks erupted around her, and tossed her assailants back against the wall. Concentrating, the pools of water, that had filled in the alley from the earlier rainstorm rippled, and the gutters on the building shook, as she lashed out towards the men with her hands. Water seemed to seep out from the earth, the air, and a loud crash from an erupting fire hydrant echoed in the night. She felt alive, a power coursing through her veins that she could never have injected there. A spiral of water, like a strange oceanic tornado, plummeted towards the large men, pushing them back into the street, into traffic.
Quickly, she turned to run, leaving the devastation behind her. Sprinting, her legs seemed to carry her with her new found strength, however momentary it would be, she did not know; but, she ran until she no longer could. She immersed herself in the concrete jungle.
In a weeks time, she found herself dragging her feet, running her hands along the same cool bricks of the alleyway. She pressed herself against the building wall, and sunk down to a crouching position. Tremors engulfed her body once more, her eyes burned with fever, and she leaned forward to empty her stomach. Shaking her head in disbelief, she smirked as she thought how ironic it had been that she had not taken a single drug, nor injected anything since that night. The pure, invigorating euphoria she had tapped into could not be compared, and now, she was still suffering from what felt like withdrawal symptoms.
Dizzy, she leaned forward to empty her stomach again, tears forming in her eyes, she wretched uncontrollably. A gentle hand reached out to her, and ran soft fingers through her hair. A cold, wet cloth was applied to her neck, and a soft voice spoke to her,
“Come, child. There is much I have seen, and much you must learn. There are others like you…”
Edited by Serena Morrigan, Jun 28 2014, 08:55 PM.