Naamah Lucifruge Rofocale [whip ;D]

[Kura]

NAAMAH LUCIFRUGE ROFOCALE

freya/chii from chobits

I want you to know that I see
all the reasons why you fail

Full name:. naamah lucifruge rofocale
Nicknames: naamie
Gender: female
Age/ date of birth: sixteen
Birthplace: atlas
Status and occupation: agent

Virus Gene Progress: ( fill this in when your char is a neogena, otherwise leave it blank or just place 'none')
Health:(how is the health of your character, does he/she catch a cold fast or does he/she have any illness)

I've seen all your motivations
Ones for good and ones for hell

Ability: (what is the special ability from your char? This also counts for all the membergroups)
Strength:

ACTRESS ` I can act the way I want to and unless you know me really, really, really really well, it's kind of heard to tell if I'm faking or not. I wouldn't say my facade is flawless, but if I can use it to bypass the guards at the gate, then I say it's decent.

TAKING THE INITIATIVE ` Give me a good opportunity and I'll jump at it. I don't usually tend to be a follower. But then again, I'm not a leader either. But that aside, I always take the chance when it first presents itself, no doubt about it.

PHYSICALLY FAST ` I wish I can say this is the nightmare of all my opponents. But then you'd have to go though each of them one on one and ask them some pretty meticulous questions. Lacking strength isn't my greatest worry in the world when I can make up for it in speed. Even if that speed isn't lightning fast, I'll always find some way to utlize it.

NO FEAR ` I'm not really afraid of anything until it's over and I'm thinking 'heck, that was scary.' It's party of the adrenaline rush sometimes, and other times, I think I'm just too impulsive to think about it much. Either way, it helps that I'm not shrinking away in fear in the middle of a life threatening situation.

Weakness:

IMPULSIVE ` Do it, then think. It's my philosophy for life. Really, if everyone contemplated their ever action before actually doing it, then no one would get anywhere in life. That's why there are people like me who are just down right reckless and don't give much of a care when the jump into the fray.

PIGHEADED ` The greatest and worst thing that ever happened to sneak into my personality. Really, sometimes, I'm just too set on something that I'd fight with tooth and claw to keep it. Or, like my mother said, "You don't listen enough." But I say, screw that; look where listening got her.

IMPATIENT/ATTENTION DEFICIT ` I like to have people waiting on me, not vice versa; everything I want when I want it. Yup, my patience from a scale of one to five is negative ten. There are some rare moments when I can wait just a tensey bit but like I said, their rare. So most of the time, I'm not going to sit there long enough to wait for you to remember my name, cause by the time you do, I'll probably across the room talking to that one guy I was checking out earlier.

NO RESPECT ` Respect? What respect? Respect is only giving people some ground above you to walk on. Authority? I spit in their face (it might be the reason why guards love chasing me out of wherever I go). Unless you saved my life a several hundred times and killed everything within a two mile radius single handed, I don't really give much respect.

CHILDISH ` Shut up, writeress |:

Weapons: (is your person having a weapon? describe it here)
Inventory:(any special items your character is carrying?)

When you close your eyes to see
The truth that's inside me

Length:
Weight: one hundred fifteen pounds
Build: slender, kinda scrawny
Voice:
Face:
Hair: long platinum blonde
Eyes: different shades of amber, depending on the light
Scars and/or birthmarks:
Clothing style:
Descriptive appearance:

At 5"5', Naamah is of fairly average height. She has a slender physique that makes her look frail. The lean muscles of her body are not made for fighting as she can easily be overpowered by anyone. Instead, she puts her stamina into dancing and acrobatics.

According to Wyrda, Naamah looks like her mother with her pale complextion and naturally curly dirty blonde hair. Her eyes, however are supposed to be from her father, since their light brown shade was a far cry from her mother's clear blue.

In terms of fashion, Naamah might as well be attending a royal ball. She prefers lolita dresses and renaissance inspired gowns to 'modern' day clothes. Dresses to pants. However, since she is a dhampir and expected to fight, she wears clothes that usually have a punk theme with an excess of buckles or cross/fleur de lis jewelry. She likes to put emphasis on her eyes by putting black liner on them.

If you had eyes to see down inside your stomach
Then you would understand what I mean

Likes:(make a list of at least five things your character likes)
Dislikes:(make a list of at least five things your char dislikes.
Phobia's/ fears:

NIGHT TERRORS ` Those cursed little creature things that come to me in my sleep. They stop the time and stop my breath, playing with my emotions until I'm writhing in pretentious fear and pain. The they laugh. I don't fear their amused vocals, but I know they laugh. Sometimes they visit for months straight, other times they disappear so it seems as if only a dream. But I know their there...

FORGOTTEN ` I'd hate to think of me not leaving a mark in this world. And honestly, it terrifies me to think that my name in stone would just rot in a corner of unwritten history. If I make it big, then everyone would remember me and I'll be immortal in their minds. If I don't, well, the thought is too horrendous to think of.

CLAUSTROPHOBIA ` Well everyone is scared of something right? Claustrophobia started for me at about the same time as those things. They like to shut me in, sometimes, and no matter how big a space they leave, their presence makes it hard to breathe. The feeling seeps into real life sometimes, and it feels like I'm drowning, drowning, d r o w n i n g...

Ambition/ desires: ( what does he/she wishes to achieve)
Descriptive personality:

AMBITIOUS ` You could say that I'm a perfectionist. But that might be stretching it a little. It's not a surprise that i like being on top. Doesn't everyone? Well, if not then I guess it's just me. When I do things, I like getting them right. And when I get a job, I want to see respect and fear in the eyes of my client and a nice fat payment in compensation for the killing.

MISCHIEVOUS ` I like trouble. Is that a crime? it's a lot more interesting when where is something happening. Anyways, life is boring enough as it is so why let the opportunity for adventure and excitement pass?

IMAGINATIVE ` Ok, I confess. I do life in a world enitrely of my own making. it's the setting for my day dreams and the realm of my fairy tales. Trues, it does sound quite the tall story but real life gets a bit dull sometimes and I need something to keep me entertained.

PESSIMISTIC ` The darker side of like is always the reality. Though I live in my own dream world, it, like real life, is by no means, perfect. There will always be more mishaps than not. When your expecting them , they are not as troublesome. And when something good happens, it's all the more of a pleasant surprise.

MORBID ` In this world, there are two kinds of pessimists. The moody kind, and the happy kind. i believe I all under the happy kind. There are down fall of having a nice, active little imagination and a pesstimistic nature all in the same person is that your not always 'nice' to people. You can happily tell me that your planning to go to the ocean for a dip and I'll detail you in about your downfall at the mouth of a shark in all it's gory detail.

WHIMSICAL ` Oh, I do love this word. And believe it or not, it describes me like red describes a rose. I do see myself as quite unpredictable. As it is, I tend to change my mind on a whil. A plan that I might've once though quite clever can suddenly be changed or called off if I happen to fancy a new idea. A person that I just spat at can be my best friend the next day. Well, as for the person, I don't know too much about how they'll like that.

HEADSTRONG ` Maybe it's a good trait. Maybe it's a bad one. But as spoiled as it sounds, I have to have my own way. Some tell me that I could probably be a lot smarter than butting heads with everyone who disagrees with me, but I can't help it. I like my ideas and enjoy seeing them work out. But that doesn't mean I'm narrow minded. I'm always open to suggestion. Most of the time.

You can't limit me
With all your gross mistakes

Family Tree:

Annette Vasser;; Mother;; Deceased

Ahh yes, my dear dear mother. I remember my limited days with you. How desperately you tried to teach me about hard work and morals. To not end up like you. In the end, you expected respect, but I couldn't respect you because you were too pathetic in my eyes. You wanted love but instead that subordinate nature of your's got hate. I don't have a doubt about how you ended up where you were. And I'm determined not to make your mistakes.

Saki Rofocale;; Father;; Unknown

I've never met you personally. But if I did, I think I would like you just as much as I liked mother. According to her, you were a kind, if not demanding man. Demanding married man. I don't know you, and I don't want to. May you die many terrible deaths.

Blanche Ozera;; Adopted Mother;; Alive

Though you turned me away after what I had become, I suppose some thanks should be in order. After all, you were the one who so kindly took me in a doted upon me, bringing me whatever I wanted and ultimately, you were the one who (though I loathed to admit) shaped my character the most.

Wyrda Nikitin;; ---;; Unknown

YOU. I have nothing to say about you. |:

Past:

The circumstance under which I was born was just like that of any other child. I was born in a hospital with doctors watching over my delivery, blah blah blah. Nothing too special. I don't remember much from those early days. Just blurred glimpses of bright lights and looming figures. When I was discharged from the hospital, my mother brought me to her tiny apartment. Tiny might've been an understatement. The apartment, from what i remember, had two rooms and a bathroom. One was a kitchen the size of a walk in closet and the other was only just a bit bigger than our mattress. It was under these conditions that I lived my first four years of life.

Living in Atlas, France at the time, my mother was...interesting, I guess one could say. Or if they wanted to be harsher, they could say she wasn’t right in the head. She wanted me to lead a simple life. One where I would grow up as a human and enter society as a human. As it went, she was convinced the world was full of monsters, inhuman creatures just waiting for the chance to tear a body apart limb by limb. So for years, I never once stepped into a school. When she went to work, my mother would bring me to a close friend of hers. Annette Vasser worked at a theater, doing what, I never learned but I doubted that it included performing but she brought back enough money for us to make ends meet, so my young mind never sought to wonder.

I suppose now you might be wondering why I hated her so. Well, hate would be a bit too venomous a word. Something like 'dislike' would be more accurate. From the beginning, my mother was so blinded by her image of what I was to become that she forgot to see who I was. For hours, she would lecture me about the future, how I was supposed to get a good education and live a good life and all that stuff. She never mentioned anything about the world she was from, she didn't want me to have anything to do with that world. Later, I could find out about it on my own.

My mother's obsession with demonology and mythology was obvious. My namesake, Naamah, was a fallen angel. For me, it represent her resentment of me; for Naamah was an angel of prostitution and I; I was a child of such. The mistake resulting from her own pleasure seeking ventures. My last name is my father's. And by someone's sick humor, it also happened to be part of the name of the demon Lucifruge. So as it was, my own middle name ended up becoming Lucifruge, completing the imbecile's name. It was also who her first sparked my interest in mythology. It began with an itching curiosity as she told me the tale of Sati and her gift to humans. Of how the jealous Shiva destroyed it as it began its descent so that only one part remained intact as it met the ground. Curiosity turned into mounting interest when she told me about Pandora and her magical box. How she unleashed unfathomable misfortune and eventually hope unto the world. By the time she got to Isis and the Egyptian gods, I was hooked. My favorite was probably the Roman epic, Aeneid.

The day my mother died started as any other day. I was dropped off at my neighbor's house. At the time, I was six and supposed to be attending kindergarten. My neighbor should've asked questions but didn't, caring only about the amount that she would get in compensation for babysitting me. I went through the usual routine, sitting or walking around or whatever doing my own thing while the aging lady sat there reading or talking on the phone. Ate lunch in the afternoon and resumed whatever I was doing. However, my mother was late that day. I, of course, thought nothing of it. The bus could've been late for all I cared.

The sun was beginning to set when the door bell rang. Getting up to answer it, my sitter came face to face with two women around my mother's age. They exchanged words for a few minutes before I was told to go with the women. Reluctant at first, I was soon led to a black car waiting outside. Much to my surprise and confusion, they drove me to a hospital. They brought me to my mother's bedside. Apparently, her bus had gotten into an accident and she was one of the more unfortunate victims. I wasn't consumed with worry and sappy words as the other victims' families were. No, I just sat there, straight-faced and listened to her explain my living arrangements should she die. I was to stay with the woman, Blanche, for the time being and permanently if death does take her. She died the next day.

Miss Blanche kindly made arrangements for the funeral of Annette Vasser. Being a devote Christian, my mother would be buried like one of them: with a priest delivering sermons over her coffin. On the day of the viewing, I was dressed in black and led to the altar where my mother's body lay. They had covered up her wounds and her expression was seemingly peaceful: it looked more like she was sleeping then dead. She looked like a porcelain doll with her pale skin and emotionless features. Then again, I suppose I underestimated death. I was still young, and the concept of death was vague. Standing next to that coffin, I still seemed impassive but inside, I secretly considered this is victory: no longer would I have to put up with her insistence that I become something I was not. No longer would I be a chained animal being trained in what my master wanted. On the day of the funeral, I sat in the front pew, unmoving and emotionless. When her coffin was closed for the last time, I quietly followed the procession outside. With a definitive thump, the coffin was placed in the horse drawn hearse, and we all looked on as it disappeared from view. I don't know where they buried her, and I don't want to know. Without bidding a final farewell, I followed Blanche to her car.

My mother's friend, Blanche was a kind person, I guess. She herself couldn’t have any children, so she treated me as her own. Entering through the front gates of my new home, I was awed by the size of her estate. It was a clear sign of the wealth that her husband had left her. Who was this woman and why did she have so much power? As far as my six year old mind was concerned, only the famous people you hear about on TV had such wealth. But the name 'Blanche Ozera' never crossed the TV screen nor graced the front page of newspapers. And yet here it was, a wealthy estate tucked neatly between smoothly rolling hills away from prying eyes. Little did I know that my time there would too be short.

My schooling began immediately. Blanche complied with my mother's wishes and didn't send me to a boarding school. However, my education was not to be neglected. Private tutors were hired to teach me the same subjects and material that kids my age learned in their so called 'schools'. In addition to these, Blanche thought that I should learn more of the arts. Arts meaning ballet and piano. These lessons too, I loved. Ballet burned out any extra energy my young self had. And piano became my escape from the world. In a few years, I was totally consumed in these studies and saw little of others save for Blanche.

Before I knew it, four years had passed since I had entered Blanche's care. In these years, I had given my dead mother little thought, sometimes forgetting her existence all together. My new ‘mother’ didn’t fill the position either. To me, she was not a parental figure but instead someone to dote on me and buy me nice things. It didn’t help that the French woman was never there, either. To where, I never knew, but Blanche always seemed to go off on business trips for months at a time.

During those lonely nights when there was only Blanche's maid and cook present, I was allowed to roam. Blanche, like my mother, had an extensive love of literature. Though my mother never had enough money to buy books, Blanche owned a whole library full of old classics and modern works. I didn't grow up around books, but her library had a power similar to a magnet. It always drew me towards it. I would spend my days and nights there, my loneliness shattered by the familiar rustle of a turning page and the close comfort of words as they sped through the page and formed vivid pictures in my mind's eye. In those empty days where my only companion was a good book, I read works by Shakespeare, Homer, and Virgil. I read the ancient epics including translations of The Epic of Gilamesh, Ramayama, and Odyssey. There were also medieval epics like Beowulf, Bhagavata Purana, and Divina Commedia. Most of these were just for personal pleasure. I read and reread her copy of Aeneid by Virgil, fascinated with the said founder of Rome.

The discovery of Shakespeare propelled me into sleepless nights. It was an obsession, an addiction. I found kindred spirits in his cyrptic speech. I spent endless hours reading his texts. Romeo and Juliet was the first, recommended to be my Blanche's cook, Jai. She had noticed my interest in the classics and thought she'd recommend me one of her own favorites. Romeo and Juliet would be a good read for any hopeless romantic. But for me, I simply read through it, bored with Shakespeare's unoriginal and sometimes even idiotic depiction of young love. What kept me reading was his use of language. Finish that one, I quickly moved on to another one, Hamlet. This one, I liked much better. From the first page onwards, Shakespeare drew me into his world much like the darkness that envelopes after the candles have been blown out at night.

May you hold your breath to breathe
Your empty reality

Name: Kura
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Experience: 8-9years (uber nurd ;D)
Other chars: ---