Morrigane

[attr="class","apptop"]name: [attr="class","appanswer"] MORRIGANE [attr="class","apptop"]age: [attr="class","appanswer"] 442 YEARS [attr="class","apptop"]birthday: [attr="class","appanswer"] MAY, 12, 1578 [attr="class","apptop"]sexuality: [attr="class","appanswer"] ASEXUAL, PANROMANTIC [attr="class","apptop"]realm: [attr="class","appanswer"] BLUE [attr="class","apptop"]power: [attr="class","appanswer"] SIREN, VISIONS OF DEATH [attr="class","apptop"]play by: [attr="class","appanswer"] BEATA V. [attr="class","apptop"]roleplayer: [attr="class","appanswer"] PHARAOH

[PTabbedContent] [PTab=POWER] [attr="class","appcon"]Abilities: Siren, visions of the path of life and subsequent death of an individual [attr="class","appcon"]Explanation of Power: When Morrigane was young, she discovered that by touching an individual, she could see visions of the path of their life. As she grew and developed the ability, it became clear that her gift was not to be graced with knowledge of every individual life and the death that would befall them. Though she was isolated, when ships passed overhead, she would drown the sailors and see their deaths as they happened from the eyes of a third party. As a siren, she finds it easy to lure men to the depths of the sea with her charming song, though she does not like to use this power of manipulation unless absolutely necessary. Her greatness weakness is compassion for life, since it directly contradicts her purpose which is tied heavily to death. The visions come as she touches the person, and showcase the rest of their lives as well as their deaths; it is not much more complicated than that. An extension of the power which she has the potential to discover with greater practice is that she can also manipulate the deaths of those she comes into contact with. [attr="class","appcon"] [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=APPEARANCE] [attr="class","appcon"]Height: 5'6" in human form, 8' 3" in siren form [attr="class","appcon"]Hair Color: white [attr="class","appcon"]Eye color: silver [attr="class","appcon"]Play By: Beata V. [attr="class","appcon"]General Appearance: Morrigane is known for her beauty, which comes from her ability to charm and lure sailors and men to their watery demise. As a siren, her form is different from her human form only in that the lower half of her body fades away into a strange formlessness, like the flowing white fabric of a dress. When on land, she has legs and a lower half identical to that of a human female. The form she takes is entirely dependent on her surroundings. If her entire body is submerged, her legs fade away into the white flowing fins, and her body takes on a strange, ethereal glow; a light which is used primarily to attract victims. She can change her torso from human to matching the flowing white fins of light at will when underwater, and can control her glow as well. Her skin is extremely pale, and her hair and eyes entirely colorless. She has the appearance of an albino save for the fact that she takes on no pink to her irises, which are silvery like moonlight on water. Her hair is long, soft, and white. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=PERSONALITY] [attr="class","appcon"]Likes: Water, silence, moonlight, rainstorms, reading books, starlight. [attr="class","appcon"]Dislikes: Sunshine, loud noises, big crowds, death, fear in others, being too far from the water. [attr="class","appcon"]General Personality: Morrigane prefers to keep to herself, a trait she developed long before she understood the extent of her powers. She was birthed alone, raised by the seas alone, and never knew friend or foe beyond drowning sailors until she finally stayed on the surface long enough to observe humans. She is a curious creature, always wanting to learn, especially when it comes to humans and the human world. She could be bribed easily with books, music, or with fascinating human trinkets. Morrigane prefers the darkness and cold to a life of warm sunshine, so she is primarily a night owl. She does not like crowds of people, and is especially hesitant to initiate physical contact as it leads her to seeing visions of the life of the person and, if she holds to them long enough, their death as well. This has led the siren to grow cold and distant with people, and while she may look on longingly from far away, she struggles to grow close to others out of fear. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=HISTORY] [attr="class","appcon"]Family: none known. [attr="class","appcon"]History: Morrigane was born of the waters. She believes that a fallen star brought her to life among the waves, but it is not known for sure exactly where a siren comes from. Whether a vengeful spirit or a beautiful light's death, Morrigane from her moment of existence sought to corrupt and drown those she came into contact with; other creatures from her realm, typically. When she would call to them with her singsong, they would leap to her, and she would pull them under the waters and into the darkness. As she did so, she discovered she could see their entire future play out--this meant, she could see their death from the eyes of an outside observer, as she was killing them when she saw as much. Drowning others was rare, though, as she normally stayed so far below the world in her dark waters, that she almost never came into contact with others. It was not until the realms merged that she truly became her nightmarish siren self, drowning all that drifted over her waters. Then, one night, a small ship sailed her seas and, when she surfaced, she heard a beautiful sound. She'd only ever heard her own voice, and this strange instrument made such sweet melodies. She sang with the instrument and the boy playing threw himself after her into the sea. Heartbroken that she had stopped the song, she chose instead to not drown the boy, but rather, to save him. She followed that ship for weeks, and the two bonded over the music. She would listen to him play, and he would see her glow in the waters. His guardian angel, he called her. He introduced her to books, reading them with a sweet voice that was as melodic as the instrument he played. When his ship reached a harbor, Morrigane followed as close as she dared, but soon he was gone. Determined to find him, she took to the land, and has since been seeking after the boy who charmed her in a way she never could charm anyone. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}] [PTab=ROLEPLAY] I sat quietly on the stone steps that led up to an abandoned shop that had gone out of business some time ago. I fingered the collar of my shirt, trying my best to think. To remember. Like so many days before, however, I simply could not. Instead, I wracked my brain until my knuckles turned white around my collar and the nails of my free hand began to leave painful marks in my enclosed fist. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, I relaxed and gave up. It was a process, I had been told time and time again, one that I could not hope to race through in an instant. They said first I needed to remember little things, like locking the front door of the shop when I closed, or eating breakfast in the morning. Not only had Eve forgotten everything about who I was before those past, but it seemed my short-term memory suffered equally. I was forgetful, clumsy, and an all-around nuisance. The Vinestaffs were amazing for putting up with me so long. They had been there from the very start. The first memory I had was odd, faint, like a far-away dream. I remembered shivering from what must have been cold, or perhaps pain. I collapsed and someone caught me in their arms. That was it. Strong arms keeping me from sinking to the ground and giving up life entirely, I was sure of it. Who this person was I would never know, but some stranger caught me, and found me help. The next memory was much more tangible, and true. It was the story I told as my first recollection to any who asked, keeping the prior to myself. It seemed better that way, at least for me, to maintain some secret. Everyone had secrets. I simply wanted to fit in. I could remember the Vinestaffs next. Above their shop, in their own home, laid out on the sofa in the main room. Cartwright Vinestaff, shop owner and loyal husband of many years, was reading casually the Daily Prophet. He was a classy, elegant man, white hair on top and with short, square glasses propped precariously on the edge of his large nose. He had on an off-white turtleneck to stand the cold, with a dark grey jacket overtop. His blue eyes wandered over to check on me, and, upon seeing me awake, he leaped up and cried out for his wife. Maryland Vinestaff stumbled in, wearing a blue collared button-up, sleeves rolled, and a messy white-and-floral apron. Both of them were quick at my side, and though obviously excited that I was conscious and well, they were quiet and asked me questions with slow, patient breaths. I told them I couldn’t remember my name, and to be honest, at that time I was finding it difficult to even understand what they were saying. Neither had an accent as far as I could tell, and I would later confirm that they were wholly locals. However, my own mind had been so shockingly wiped of knowledge that even words at first were a struggle to me. I couldn’t remember where I was from, where I had come from, or what had been wrong when I was brought to them. I was told that I had showed up outside the shop, unconscious, freezing, with bruises on my arms and legs, my ribs like bars around me, my hair unwashed and plastered to my head. Nobody thought I would make it, but somehow, I did. Now that I was awake, I was helped into a bath, cleaned up and given fresh clothes. Again, I could remember no memories when I was questioned. Instead of giving up, the Vinestaffs let it go. They knew that I had come from frightening circumstances, and instead of make a fuss, they let me sleep a few nights. When I could still not recall a thing, they took that as a note that I was serious and not hiding anything from them. They sent for an officer to see if any missing persons might fit my description, but there were none living who matched me. The choice for them might seem major, but in the eyes of these bookshop owners, it wasn’t a decision at all. I was to stay with them until something of my mind could be recovered. Simple as that. I hummed along day by day for four weeks, and now, I tried harder than ever to become myself again, to bring back the girl I was and solve the mystery of my existence. Nothing ever surfaced. I used my lunch break at the shop every day to sit here, in the quietest street of Knockturn Alley, waiting. Trying so hard to no longer forget, but to be enlightened, and to remember it all again. I felt hot tears running down my face now, dripping onto my white collar and even a few spattering the black tailored jacket I wore overtop it. I stood up now, wiping the waterworks from my face and begging that my sadness might stop before I made myself into a nervous wreck in front of my new family. I shuddered as I realized that I was being watched. It was a feeling that crept over me, washing down my spine and causing me to sit right back down. The feeling faded, and I took a deep breath. “Eve,” I whispered softly, “you can stay right here as long as you need. They don’t expect you back for another hour today.” Talking to myself was such a comfort, my own voice reassuring, and it had become an odd habit of mine. Though this side street in Knockturn Alley was usually very quiet, and often never brought about another person in the two hours I was out, today I heard soft footsteps, and turned my head away, hoping whoever approached wasn’t dangerous, and wouldn’t judge me for crying alone in a dark alleyway. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][/PTabbedContent={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}]