Post by Kame/Daman Hastings on Jul 8, 2008 0:50:34 GMT -5
K A M E
&[/size] D A M A N[/center][/size]I need you like you would not believe.
[/color][/b][/center]Pseudonym: Morgana.
Age: Fine, 14.
Experience: One year.
How you found us: I am us. I’m a part of ‘us’ already. :K
Password: [Removed by admin]
Explore the cave that is my chest.
[/color][/b][/center]Name: Kame/Daman Hastings
Gender: Male.
Age: Kame – 104./Daman – 997.
Race: Risen – Virtue/Demon - Vida.
[/color]
A torch reveals there's nothing left.
[/color][/b]Appearance: He (or they) isn’t very tall, has soft, silver-white hair that is fairly short but still manages to hang over his translucent eyebrows. When the light hits it in the precisely correct ways, it can shift from steel gray to a teal-ish tint. He has roughly defined, spiked bangs that end in tips and no longer grow.
His skin is pale as moonlight, with an almost unhealthy, sickly hue. His entire build is almost a trickery to the eye. He looks malnourished, with frail and brittle bones and seemingly no strength. His nose is small and pointed, as is his chin, and his eyes are a stormy blue-grey resembling the ocean, that, when taken by the other half turn into a peculiar cranberry.
Thin isn’t nearly the way to describe him – feminine and underfed would be more appropriate. He would seem like a nice enough person, just a little distant, or aloof. His fingers are pale and clammy, calloused in various areas, and nails that are mere blunt stubs. He isn’t particularly unsightly in any way, but difficult to look at sometimes. There’s just something about him that makes your heart wrench.
He has wings that spread out magnificently to about 10 ft when airborne, but is usually tightly wrapped underneath large white or black cloaks. The feathers are every bit as ethereal as another angel’s but lacking the, pearl-like sheen.
His clothes are an assortment of white jackets with flaring collars and dramatic tails, thin, plain black shirts with neat rows of buttons, navy blue pants, aged graying vests, and that of the sort. Shoes are anything comfortable to walk in – usually the black variety, spit polished. Despite this subtle need to keep up a clean and sharp appearance, you can see the scuffs on those shoes and the way the top few buttons on his shirts would be undone and the limp way his collar sinks as his hair flattens against his scalp.
On a bad day, Kame’s presence exudes nothing but fear and wretched defeat. When Daman takes over, suddenly, the sharpness is no longer a pathetic attempt. His eyes are confidant, if not slightly eerie, his smile is smug and knowing, and his entire stance would seem different. However, only a selective few know the truth.[/color]
Your whispers echo off the walls.
[/color][/b][/center] Personality: Kame is what you would say is the typical angel. He’s kind, generally forgiving, sympathetic. He’s polite, knows his boundaries, and little things such as not to prod about sensitive things, staying away from powerful demons, respecting his elders. But for all of that, he was young, and therefore inexperienced.
He’s probably the most human angel you’d ever meet. He has fears, he has doubts, and needs someone to turn to for reassurances. He slinks away quietly after being insulted and tries to forget. He knows more about the cruelties of the world than you’d think, but chooses not to express himself. He’s generally pretty quiet, but the demon residing in his head has managed to get him pretty riled up at times.
As angels went, Kame was innocent. He didn’t like the things Daman did, didn’t like the way Daman thought, his views, his actions, his ideas of mental torture. Kame can be rather morbid when he’s in a morose mood and is actually quite the poet. But who can help being just a bit tainted while sharing a body with a demon? He has a kind nature, a soft heart. All it took was one mistake to steer him wrong.
Daman could really be a nasty piece of work. Rude, rather careless but sardonic and satirical all the same, he was your average demon. You could tell how the two got along so well. He knew he wasn’t the most powerful in his ranks and knew – for the most part – to keep himself in line. He could follow orders if he could see sense in them, or if he got anything out of it, but he may mutter behind his "employer’s" back.
He had as many faults as the degrees on a compass, partially why he landed himself in the sticky situation of sharing a body with an angel. For one, he has a temper, and at times, a snappy tongue with a waspish attitude. It doesn’t take much to set him off and he can be quite insulting when in the right mood. He can be rash on his bad days, but is usually wise enough to keep out of trouble. He gives the elder demons a bit of lip, jibes the angels in the right places, but never does he place himself in a fight he can’t win.
He’s just slick like that. Respect is actually very important to him, and he can be a bit of a gentleman when he sees a fitting occasion. Other than that, he’s pretty easy to read after spending a few decades with him. A bit warped, loves causing havoc, with a twisted nature and untouchable pride, there shouldn’t be anything that stuck out about him to his fellow demons.[/color]
And you can hear my distant calls.
[/color][/b][/center]Familiar: None.
Weapon of Preference: He carries around a long sword he hides when around mortal people. He’s pretty good with most blades as well, but in a desperate situation, would never hesitate to use his fists.
Job: Here may be the time to explain. Both Kame and Daman are castaways from their race. Kame had lost his cool upon a meeting with Daman in the dark streets of the human world – a place a young angel ought never to travel. In the beginning, he refused to be goaded, but Daman has had centuries of practice. A nasty incident ensued that injured several humans and nearly exposed the two of them.
Normally, the angels were strict about these things, but Kame had been lucky – if you can call it that. One of the only civil councils between the angels and demons in history opened to discuss this – for Daman had been a concern in the Underworld too. The Demon Mistress was furious he could be so careless. In the end, they decided on a fitting punishment for the two of them. They were to live in the human world, mingling together, in one body.
In order for them to balance out and possibly redeem themselves to each of their respective people, they were to live this way until they fulfilled their ‘challenge,’ which has yet to be made clear.
Please shine a light into the black.
[/color][/b][/center]"Demons are strictly forbidden to trespass, Daman," Kame hissed warningly, without much of a reaction.
"I've been here before," Daman said, sounding bored. "What about this place is so forbidden, anyway?"
"Demons are not allowed," Kame insisted, a little more fiercely than usual, probably because this was such sacred ground.
"I'm no demon," the demon exclaimed in a mock-hurt voice. "At least no one would challenge me here."
Being so arrogant, so confident, Daman had once again forgotten something rather crucial in the scene he was about to set up. These were no ordinary seraphs residing here. Admittedly, they and perhaps cherubims seemed to make up a large portion of the celestial population, but they were so close to those on Earth that they rarely bothered to visit their heavenly home. Daman was unaware of this, as he walked down the marble halls, basking in the glory of being in here, where it was so forbidden for him to be doing so. He could still hear Kame's faint protests but tilted his head to the side, as though that would make the presence in the head he now owned miraculously disappear.
No one challenged him when he went about his business - which was nothing, probably because no one was there at all. Rather odd, no doubt, but Daman wasn't in the mood to question why. He was never in the mood to question. What an absolute waste of time. If he wanted to know something, he'd find out by his own means instead of accepting the words of others. Although there were always exceptions...
Of course, though it may have been due to Kame's knowledge of the area, but as he strode confidently, he found the place was rather easy to navigate. There was just something so pleasurable in giving his angel counterpart yet another thing to worry about. He glanced at the barren, chalk-like walls with distaste, humming to himself, that ever-present leer on his face.
Daman yawned, partly for effect, and partly because once the initial delight had worn away, he found the place to be rather dull. It was endless hallway after hallway (or perhaps Daman was merely walking in circles) and he was beginning to see why the angels preferred earth. There were probably more puppets to manipulate down there than there were pillars up here. He ran a hand through his pale teal-ish hair, silky smooth like a black widow's thread, quite a dangerous analogy, but one that he, in his arrogance, thought rather fitting.
"Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shown
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like the cir - "
"Someone's coming!"
"What?" Daman snapped aggressively, his mood interrupted.
The angel said nothing, which was more than enough for even Daman could hear the unnatural humming of magic, that could be made by none other than an angel. Not sure whether to be annoyed or anticipating, he somehow chose a combination of both, leaning flat against the wall, his eyes half-closed, the picture of relaxation, with not a care in the world. He was a demon, after all.
"I've been here before," Daman said, sounding bored. "What about this place is so forbidden, anyway?"
"Demons are not allowed," Kame insisted, a little more fiercely than usual, probably because this was such sacred ground.
"I'm no demon," the demon exclaimed in a mock-hurt voice. "At least no one would challenge me here."
Being so arrogant, so confident, Daman had once again forgotten something rather crucial in the scene he was about to set up. These were no ordinary seraphs residing here. Admittedly, they and perhaps cherubims seemed to make up a large portion of the celestial population, but they were so close to those on Earth that they rarely bothered to visit their heavenly home. Daman was unaware of this, as he walked down the marble halls, basking in the glory of being in here, where it was so forbidden for him to be doing so. He could still hear Kame's faint protests but tilted his head to the side, as though that would make the presence in the head he now owned miraculously disappear.
No one challenged him when he went about his business - which was nothing, probably because no one was there at all. Rather odd, no doubt, but Daman wasn't in the mood to question why. He was never in the mood to question. What an absolute waste of time. If he wanted to know something, he'd find out by his own means instead of accepting the words of others. Although there were always exceptions...
Of course, though it may have been due to Kame's knowledge of the area, but as he strode confidently, he found the place was rather easy to navigate. There was just something so pleasurable in giving his angel counterpart yet another thing to worry about. He glanced at the barren, chalk-like walls with distaste, humming to himself, that ever-present leer on his face.
Daman yawned, partly for effect, and partly because once the initial delight had worn away, he found the place to be rather dull. It was endless hallway after hallway (or perhaps Daman was merely walking in circles) and he was beginning to see why the angels preferred earth. There were probably more puppets to manipulate down there than there were pillars up here. He ran a hand through his pale teal-ish hair, silky smooth like a black widow's thread, quite a dangerous analogy, but one that he, in his arrogance, thought rather fitting.
"Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shown
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like the cir - "
"Someone's coming!"
"What?" Daman snapped aggressively, his mood interrupted.
The angel said nothing, which was more than enough for even Daman could hear the unnatural humming of magic, that could be made by none other than an angel. Not sure whether to be annoyed or anticipating, he somehow chose a combination of both, leaning flat against the wall, his eyes half-closed, the picture of relaxation, with not a care in the world. He was a demon, after all.
Wade through the depths and bring me BACK.
[/color][/b][/center]Note that these, technically speaking, are two characters but since the angel is the more seen side of him and I'm the demon master, it would have been more fitting to place this in the angel applications.
