Post by Wilhelmina Bauer on Mar 7, 2017 3:35:22 GMT
 Wilhelmina Bauer I'm a slow dying flower, frost killing hour, sweet turning sour and untouchable. general info
personality Willa is easily described as being flighty. She hasn't lived anywhere permanently since she was changed, and often won't spend more than a day or two in an area. Unlike other nomadic vampires however, Willa has not formed friendships or even become simple acquaintances with other vampires she has come across. It is as if she doesn't even exist, and she would prefer to keep it that way. She has deep rooted fears of social interaction, and feels that by letting someone get close she's giving them the opportunity to hurt her. Some would perhaps describe her as being cold hearted, which isn't the case. She's just merely detached herself so completely from the rest of the world that its hard to put forth any sort of emotion. Her stoic ways often make others feel uneasy around her, and this alone usually deters other vampires from bothering her. Those less inclined to leave her be are usually met with a quick disappearance on her part. BIOGRAPHY When I was born dates and records were not something largely kept, at least not among the poorer common folk of which I was apart of. All that I can truly say in regards to my time of birth is that I was born shortly after the Schmalkkaldic War in Germany. My place of birth no longer even exists, it was a tiny village too small to even include on the maps back then. It has long since been wiped away by famine and disease. My family, what little of us there were, was largely consistent of hunters. My father and his fathers before him made their living fur trapping and hunting wild game and selling the goods to travelling merchants. It was because of this that my father met my mother, her parents were travelling across Germany when they came across my little village. I was often told that my mother was a beauty, and that my father loved her instantly. He swore to make her his bride, and sure enough he did. I was born shortly thereafter, though at the cost of my mother's life. Her labor was long and painful, the stress was simply too much for her to withstand. Thus my father was left with a dead wife and an infant (a girl no less) to deal with. Desperate to find a way to deal with his newfound problems, my father married the town widower. She was older than he, and had lost both her newborn son and husband to sickness, but she would be able to nurse me. It was really mutually beneficial on both parts really, he got someone to take care of his child and she got someone to take care of her. If only it had truly been that simple. My stepmother was a cruel woman, and detested the fact that she had to look after me. I wasn't her child, I was a reminder of the baby she'd lost, I was a burden, and she never let me forget it. It wasn't uncommon to beat one's child back then, a good spanking was thought to build character and produce hard working adults. My step mother however took this age old practice way too far, and I lived in fear of her. Her mood swings were violent and terrible. I learned quickly to stay out of her sight and to live as if I simply didn't exist. My father, who was gone often on hunting excursions, for the most part ignored her treatment of me when I was a child. In fact he ignored me completely really, to him I was just someone he got stuck with. I wish it had stayed that way. As I grew older and neared my preteens it became apparent that I favored my mother in terms of appearance. Our neighbors would look upon me and say that I was growing into the beauty my mother was and that I had her big blue eyes, and I basked in their praise. People were beginning to notice me, and for the first time I didn't feel invisible. I felt like a person who had a place in this world. Starved as I was for attention I always tried my best to keep my simple clothes clean and my hair tidy, anything to just have someone notice me. I knew that vanity was a sin, and perhaps it was God punishing me for I would soon grow to curse the very looks I once took pride in. I was around twelve the first time my father came into my bedroom in the middle of the night. At first it almost innocent, nothing but gentle sighs and soft touches through the fabric of my nightgown. I didn't know what to make of it, my father had never treated me as such before, and idiotically I enjoyed his attentions. Till that fateful night where I died. Not physically, God didn't answer that prayer, but spiritually, emotionally, mentally, I was dead. I died countless nights after that. Each time he came into my room I died. Every touch, every stroke, every kiss, I died over and over again. My stepmother wasn't a fool, she knew of what my father did to me in the night when he was home. How could she not when he went to my bed instead of her's. And she hated me all the more because of it. When the sun was up I was at her mercy, and at night I was at my father's. My mortal life was my own personal hell. I prayed every moment of every day and every night for God to take me away, to let me fly away from all of this, to make it impossible for them to hurt me anymore. For ten years I prayed with all that was left of my heart, for ten years I suffered relentlessly. Till one day, God sent me an angel. Oh God he was beautiful, a pale skinned cherub sent straight from heaven itself with a crown of golden locks. I just knew he had to be my guardian angel, the one who would save me from all this pain and torment. But oh how wrong I was. God had never favored me. This was no being of divine light. He was my executioner. A devil in disguise. I remember it was raining that day, it had been storming relentlessly for weeks and the earth was a giant inescapable pit of mud that no matter how hard you scrubbed at never seemed to come off. My father was away hunting, the rains wouldn't put food on our table, and my stepmother was inside tending to my new little brother. I was outside standing in the rain, I loved the rain. The way it felt like the clean water was washing away all the dirt from my soul. I was just standing out there, stuck in the mud almost up to my knees when I first saw him. He was standing among the trees, blonde curls sticking to his cheeks and shoulders. I should have seen the hunger in his black bottomless eyes, but I was enrapt of his beauty. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. He never spoke, only seemed to stare at me with as much interest as I was giving him. My world was at a standstill for what seemed an eternity, then everything shifted suddenly. I was no longer standing, but falling. I thought I had fallen to the ground, but it was much too hard to be the muddy undertow. I remember feeling shock when I realized that I was being held in the Angel's arms, he felt so powerful and solid as if he was carved from stone. For the fraction of a moment I felt safe in his embrace, strong as it was. Then the pain began. I felt my shoulder tear as his teeth ripped into it. I wasn't scared though, I'd long since embraced the thought of death. I remained unmoving in his arms, eyes closed, listening to the rain and the deep sucking of his mouth over my skin as he drew out the very blood that beat through my veins. It wasn't long before I began to feel the dark embrace of death creeping in around me. I willed it to take me, to end my suffering. But the end never came. Something, or rather someone, interrupted the angel. I felt his arms slip away and then I felt the mud ooze up around me as I truly did hit the ground. It coated all of me as if it were going to suck me up completely. What happened next I am still unsure of, my human mind was far too hazy due to blood loss to fully comprehend what happened. I remember hearing raised voices, yelling, they were angry, though I don't know what they were saying. Then I heard thunder loud enough to make my ears ring, and the thunder rang over and over around me. It was so loud I thought for sure lightning would strike me down at any moment. Then it was quiet. Just the sound of the rain. My mind faded away then, and I thought at first that I had finally died. For a few brief moments I was completely at peace. Then came the burning and I knew I was in hell. God had truly forsaken me and now I would spend my eternal afterlife burning in purgatory. But I wasn't dead. I was changing. The pain shocked me back into alertness and I found myself alone in clearing once again. I was screaming in torment, but my voice was lost amongst the storm and rain. I tried to crawl through the mud back to the house, for surely my stepmother would help me. The pain was just so awful, if that was death I didn't want it anymore. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to live. Anything was better than this. I only made it as far as the chicken coop before I gave up. The mud was too thick, the rain too strong, my body too weak. At some point I must have crawled under the coop to escape the rain, and it was there I remained for three days of pure agony. Not once did the rain stop. It poured and poured as if the heavens themselves were weeping along side me in my misery. It stopped raining on that third day, the day my heart stopped beating. I should have been dead, but I'd never felt more alive. My entire body was covered in mud and I felt so dirty after lying in it for days, but it was the mud that had saved me. The thick wet earth had formed a seal around my wound, keeping me from bleeding out completely before the change. I came out from under the chicken coup and stood under the sun, letting the warm rays dry my body. Everything seemed so clear, so beautiful. I was aware of everything. Every scuffle and scuttle of the chickens as they milled about around me, I could even hear the shifting of the unhatched chicks as they prepared to hatch any moment. I empathized with their plight, I too felt encased in my thick coating of mud. Like them, I was ready to break free into the world. Just as the chicks cracked their shells I tore at the mud on my skin. In seconds I had most of off, though my dress was lost in the process. I stood naked in the sun, still dirty but free none the less. Then I heard it. A simple gasp from my stepmother as she stepped outside to feed the animals that morning. A chore that had once been mine but one she was forced to do in my absence. It was then that I became aware of something else. A hunger so great that it was all I could think about. Instinctively I knew what to do. I killed her without even realizing it. There was only the hunger, and the blood. Oh the blood. It was hot and thick in my mouth, it soothed my burning through with every dragging gulp. It was a messy kill, I had more blood on me than in me. What a sight I must have been, dirt and blood staining my nude form my hair rivaling that of a banshee's. I didn't care though, all that mattered was the blood. I licked it from my hands, my arms, and used my fingers to scrape it from my chest to that lick off as well. I was a complete animal, a slave to my basest urges. It was the cry of my younger brother that brought me back to reality. And with that sound came fear. What had become of me? What had I done? My stepmother lay dead at my feet, her throat completely torn out. She was a mangled mess, her ribs broken, one arm bent at an unnatural angle. And her eyes. They were wide open, staring at me accusingly. In her final hour I'd become the monster she'd always believed me to be. Horror and fear tore me inside out. I felt myself slipping apart. My gift, in my fear, had arisen. For the first time when I was afraid, after years of wishing, I was invisible. But it was more that that. I was gone. I had no form. I could feel every molecule of my being separated into billions of minuscule pieces. I was smaller than dust on the wind, and just as flimsy. A single breeze sent me scattering away from the doorway. For miles I must have floated this way and that way. I was terrified, but as time wore on my fear began to leave me. It wasn't so bad, flying over the land. I began to feel so free and peaceful. It was my inner peace that drew my body back together. I found myself naked still, though far from home. I still didn't know what had become of me, but in those weeks I didn't care. I was stronger, faster, more alive. My body didn't scatter apart again during those days, for I was never afraid. My only worry was the hunger. The insatiable hunger. It was always in the back of my mind. Though I preferred the wild seclusion of the forest, the hunger always drove me back to civilization. One, two, three...the body count rose and rose. I was reckless back then. I hunted from the same village over and over again. I didn't know any better. Rumors arose and spread like wildfire. Whispers of the wild fey woman who came at night to steal people away. I would have continued on living like that too, had it not been for her. She never told me her real name, instead she asked me to call her Mother. I did, though the word felt thick and ugly on my tongue. I had no mother, and the only person that could have been betrayed me in the worst ways. I stayed with her for awhile, she was like me. It was Mother who would teach me about what I had become. A vampire. I told her everything about me, from my earliest memory to the day I met her. Even my wild flight shortly after my changing. That apparently wasn't of the norm. That, she'd told me, must have it been what my gift was. She asked me if I could show her, and when I told her that I hadn't been able to do it since that day she just smiled and said that some gifts require time and training to master. She helped me practice at it, and after weeks of trying I was able to at least make my body appear hazy and blurred out. I was only able to force my molecules apart slightly, not enough for full invisibility, but it was a start. Mother wasn't impressed. She expected more of me, wanted more out of me. It was then, after being with her for nearly a year that she told me her story. Her mate had been killed by a coven of Vampires known as the Volturi. She'd already explained to me that they were the self proclaimed rulers of our kind, but she'd never mentioned that they were the cause of her mate's death. Her mate had been caught changing a child, a taboo it would seem, and the Volturi had killed both him and the child. He had just been trying to make a family for her, Mother explained, he hadn't done anything wrong. She wanted the Volturi to pay for what they'd done. And after learning and seeing what my gift was capable of, she hoped I would be the one to get her revenge. The Volturi were surrounded by powerful guards, but guards couldn't stop what they couldn't see or touch. Ideally I would be able to sneak in and kill the wives with no one the wiser. An eye for an eye. It was then I realized she was just using me, I simply a means to an end for her. What I'd thought was compassion turned out to be only lies. Yet I still remained with her. Though after revealing her true intentions, Mother wasn't as lenient with me. She pushed me harder than ever, once she even struck me across the face in anger. I was scared of her then, memories of my past life came rushing to the surface and I was that scared little girl again. With my fear rushing through me, my gift surfaced with ferocity and I once again felt myself breaking apart. As soon as I disappeared from her site Mother's mood changed, she was excited, happy even. Though she couldn't see me any longer, she could still smell my scent on the air and told me to pull myself back together. I tried and found that I couldn't. But I wasn't scared like last time, I knew that with time I would change back but Mother didn't want to wait. She demanded for me to change back, and in my desperation to please her I did. But it felt wrong. Everything felt horribly wrong. I wasn't myself. The look of horror on Mother's face confirmed what I was feeling. My body was misshapen, my face horribly disfigured. I didn't need to see my reflection to know that I looked like a monster. Thankfully my fear made my molecules separate again. I was scared of my gift then, and my fear kept me in my particle state. Mother tried to sooth me then, realizing that it was my fear that fueled my gift, but I wasn't listening to her. It was because of her that I'd tried to use it in the first place. And she didn't even care about me! She just wanted me because of what my gift offered her. I left her then, it was easy to let the wind sweep me far far away from her. I can't tell you how long I stayed like that, days or weeks, but it was my eventual painfully strong hunger that drove me to try and make myself whole again. I was alone after that and have been since, Mother was long gone, my home was long gone. Others have come and gone over the countless years, but I try to stay away from them. Vampires were just as capable of hurting me as humans, Mother proved that. I suppose my existence is rather pointless, after gaining control of my gift I came to realize I serve no greater purpose other than to help depopulate the growing community of humans around the world. Time just continues to slip by while I linger on, unchanging. gift: Self molecular expansion. The ability to spread her own body's molecules so far apart that she becomes invisible. This ability is strongly connected to her emotions, if she feels afraid her body will lose its hold on her molecules and they will separate against her will. This ability only affects her, her clothes or whatever she is touching will not be included. Therefore she is naked whenever her molecules reform. When her molecules separate she is largely at the mercy of air currents, while she could move against gentle breezes strong gusts will send her scattering away. When in this form she is able to slip through the tiniest of openings, and objects can literally move right through her without even knowing she was there. Vampires and other supernatural beings would still be able to scent her, and mind readers would still be able to read her mind. With deep concentration she is able to only separate certain parts of her body (ie: make it look like she was missing a body part). Every time she uses this ability however she runs the risk of not being able to force her molecules back together properly. More than once she has forced her molecules back together only to end up looking horribly disfigured till she was able to focus and force everything back into its proper place. | ooc info  ☆ NAME iri ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS Alexandra Taylor ☆ TIMEZONE CST ☆ ANY OTHER INFO? I honestly have no idea what I'm doing anymore. ☆ HOW DID YOU FIND US? Ad on another site. |
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ
