Post by kesi on Dec 7, 2005 17:16:56 GMT -5
Name: Kesi Resenski
Refered to as: Kesi or Kes
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Hair: Dark Brown, is long and straight. No layers or anything but a long fringe that falls into her eyes.
Eyes: Large, bright green.
Skin: pale, white
Society: A different World
Personality: She is a dreamer. She is almost foolishly naive, lost in her own world she just drifts on her own waves. She does and says what she likes when she likes, she oves, regaurdless of wether she is loved back.
Apperance: She is small, and appears frail. Everything is in perfect proportion.
Past: Nothing particurlarly special that is worth noting here. Will put a little into my posts though.
Weapons (include pics):
Kesi does not believe in violence though, of course, she realises they are a neccesity of this life so she carries:
This is an extremely short sword/long kinfe. She keeps it close at all times, naturally.
Kesi is practically in love with this sword, though she has never had to resort to actually using it properly on someone. She practices it and can make some beautiful moves when alone.
Pictures:
I can't find a pic so I'll have to draw one when I get time.
RP-ing Skills (give an example) --->
Morning glories spread their hesitant petals, to tremble upon the pale-white sun of a winter day, when the first snowflakes, like a thousand gelid bees, rouses my Kesi from sleep and dreams of the sea lapping around her feet and anemones trembling in her hair, of seashells and oysters and translucent jellyfish. My dear is lying in open meadowland, exposed and vulnerable; the wind tousles her hair, throws it aside in hectic dark currents around her expressionless, sleeping face in oblivious repose. This morning, only her hair dances in wild, plays with the undercurrents of wind and courts the marigolds that fail to survive the cold of winter, staining the snow with dabs of failing color, ghostly wraiths animated by nature's powers alone.
She is utterly still; and one could think her dead, from the cold of her skin and the inexpressive quietude of her brow. Yet, her breast still rises and falls in that listless cadence of breath, mechanical and tender, exhaling tufts of foamy breath from slightly parted lips. Pearly-white, she owes nothing to the snow that wraps her in, consumes her flesh with its frozen hand, flecks of white that fall upon the thicket of deep-black lashes, resting upon the curve of a cheek, trembling ephemerally under the touch of its assailants.
Somewhere, a deep howl breaks the silence of morning but my darling, too listless, too unacquainted with the horrors and troubles of a world not fit for her: she is unafraid of death or pain, incorrupt and stainless, and thus, does not care for those who would as easily destroy her. The illusion disperses and she is awake, head rising from its nest of white-gold, eyes wide shut: the last fragments of dream remain still and she clings to them as an anchor to that netherworld wherein she was born.
My Kesi, brittle and small, inspired by nature alone, is not aware of the first droplets of song to leave her throat, meddled with snow and memories; it is a solitary ballad, no more, a mere folksong of her endless beaches and sea. She, as the small cadre that formed her family, entwines with song and take flight with it; and though she still lays, frail and still, eyes shut, she sings and is alive if only for now, her life standing on a razor edge, waiting to be conquered and, ultimately, destroyed.
Refered to as: Kesi or Kes
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Hair: Dark Brown, is long and straight. No layers or anything but a long fringe that falls into her eyes.
Eyes: Large, bright green.
Skin: pale, white
Society: A different World
Personality: She is a dreamer. She is almost foolishly naive, lost in her own world she just drifts on her own waves. She does and says what she likes when she likes, she oves, regaurdless of wether she is loved back.
Apperance: She is small, and appears frail. Everything is in perfect proportion.
Past: Nothing particurlarly special that is worth noting here. Will put a little into my posts though.
Weapons (include pics):
Kesi does not believe in violence though, of course, she realises they are a neccesity of this life so she carries:
This is an extremely short sword/long kinfe. She keeps it close at all times, naturally.
Kesi is practically in love with this sword, though she has never had to resort to actually using it properly on someone. She practices it and can make some beautiful moves when alone.
Pictures:
I can't find a pic so I'll have to draw one when I get time.
RP-ing Skills (give an example) --->
Morning glories spread their hesitant petals, to tremble upon the pale-white sun of a winter day, when the first snowflakes, like a thousand gelid bees, rouses my Kesi from sleep and dreams of the sea lapping around her feet and anemones trembling in her hair, of seashells and oysters and translucent jellyfish. My dear is lying in open meadowland, exposed and vulnerable; the wind tousles her hair, throws it aside in hectic dark currents around her expressionless, sleeping face in oblivious repose. This morning, only her hair dances in wild, plays with the undercurrents of wind and courts the marigolds that fail to survive the cold of winter, staining the snow with dabs of failing color, ghostly wraiths animated by nature's powers alone.
She is utterly still; and one could think her dead, from the cold of her skin and the inexpressive quietude of her brow. Yet, her breast still rises and falls in that listless cadence of breath, mechanical and tender, exhaling tufts of foamy breath from slightly parted lips. Pearly-white, she owes nothing to the snow that wraps her in, consumes her flesh with its frozen hand, flecks of white that fall upon the thicket of deep-black lashes, resting upon the curve of a cheek, trembling ephemerally under the touch of its assailants.
Somewhere, a deep howl breaks the silence of morning but my darling, too listless, too unacquainted with the horrors and troubles of a world not fit for her: she is unafraid of death or pain, incorrupt and stainless, and thus, does not care for those who would as easily destroy her. The illusion disperses and she is awake, head rising from its nest of white-gold, eyes wide shut: the last fragments of dream remain still and she clings to them as an anchor to that netherworld wherein she was born.
My Kesi, brittle and small, inspired by nature alone, is not aware of the first droplets of song to leave her throat, meddled with snow and memories; it is a solitary ballad, no more, a mere folksong of her endless beaches and sea. She, as the small cadre that formed her family, entwines with song and take flight with it; and though she still lays, frail and still, eyes shut, she sings and is alive if only for now, her life standing on a razor edge, waiting to be conquered and, ultimately, destroyed.