Post by Tzila Jäger on Mar 9, 2014 15:04:48 GMT -7
Tzila Jager
Tzila Batshir Jager Twenty-One Neutral Tzi Torment All FACE CLAIM: Yarizakura Hime ANIMANGA: Yozakura Quartet GENDER: Female HEIGHT: 5'3" ... and a half WEIGHT: 132 lbs APPEARANCE One of the first things you'll notice about Tzila is her long, orange scarf. It almost falls all the way to the ground, and it seems impractical to take anywhere. However, she refuses to take it off. Hell, she won't let anyone touch it really. It hides a grotesque scar on her neck, which if you're lucky enough to see, you certainly won't be lucky enough to hear the story behind it. Her hair is long, reaching to her waist, and dark. Sometimes it can be seen up in a ponytail, but only if she remembers to bring a hair band with her (she often doesn't). No medication can cure the lust, so say a prayer for the sickly. ‘Cause she belongs to heaven. There wasn’t any possible way she should know it was him. They’d never met - not really, anyway. They had, but their time together had been so brief that Tzila couldn’t even remember his face. Still, the shadowy, lanky, almost too-tall figure lingering over her was definitely him, and that alone would have been enough to send the girl cowering beneath him into a panicked state. Her father, in the flesh. Her dead father - standing right there, leering over her with his brown eyes, curly black hair, and white, pearly teeth showing through his lips. But it was the alluring smile on his face, the loving stare, and the noose he was holding out to her that painted the picture of something real terrifying. He was tempting her, drawing her forward. "Tzila," he called, though it was like no voice she’d ever heard. Tzi wasn’t even sure he had spoken in reality, except somehow, she just knew he had. “Come on, Tzila, it’s painless really. All your suffering will end with me.” But when she opened her mouth to respond, nothing would come out. Her throat was dry and raw, her eyes stinging and puffy, as if she’d been screaming and crying for hours, days maybe. She wasn’t sure what time it was, where she was, or how she’d come upon this place where her deceased father was looking over her, seducing her with comfort that she’d never received, but all she knew that right now, this was real. It was so vivid, she could hear the rapid beat of her heart in her chest and feel her lungs tighten as she tried to choke out one simple word: No. He stepped closer, his figure growing ever larger as he cast a shadow over her, “Tzi,” he cooed, gentle, voice as light as a feather. “You have nothing to fear from me. I’m your father.” The shaking of her body didn’t cease despite the smoothness of his voice. She was scared… but not of him. She’d never been afraid of him. He was gone, in her mind. He was never there. He never would be there and that was a fact she’d grown to accept over the years. It was herself - the fact that, despite what her one side of her mind screamed, the other side was beginning to win over: the side that really wanted to give in to the temptation right in front of her. The part of her that thought, "That rope does look inviting.” He crouched down beside her, fastening the noose around her neck and brushing her long hair with a gentle touch of his fingers. Tzi stared up at him, eyes wide, but devoid of anything besides that ever present horror. No, her mind screamed. No, no, no! But the deed was done, and there was nothing she could do to stop what was next from happening. In an instant, her father was back to his feet, that kind glint in his gaze gone, a more sinister look replacing it. His sneer grew slightly too large for his face, appearing Cheshire-like in nature as he began to pull on the opposite end of the rope, tightening it to the skin around Tzila’s windpipe. "No!" she finally shrieked, her hands coming to her neck to try and loosen the rope. “I don’t want to be you! I don’t want to be my dad!” A laugh echoed about her, making her feel as though she was inside a vast room of nothingness. She took a moment to look around - it certainly didn’t seem as though there was anything but pitch black all around her, “But Tzi, I am you. This is you. You’re my living legacy.” And then he pulled harder, turning to drag her along behind him as he walked away. A gross, glutteral choke worked its way from her as she tried to scream again, but it was too late. She gasped and reached the opposite direction from her father, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to beg for help. All she needed was a way out, a light at the end of the tunnel. There were many things Tzila considered herself to be, many of which negative, but the last thing she ever, truly wanted to amount to was her dad. Just like that, she awoke from her sleep, sitting straight up in her bed and whipping her head around behind her as if she would still see that image of her father pulling her into a vast darkness. Nothing but the wall stared back at her. No manic laughter, no rope around her neck. And yet… Tzila brought her hands up to feel at her windpipe. She could have sworn that her throat was still tight - that only moments ago, she really was being choked to death at the hands of her father - or herself - whoever that was supposed to represent. She didn’t know, nor did she want to examine what the man in her dreams meant, “F-fuck,” she murmured, pushing herself back against the wall her bed was against and trying to catch her breath. She was wheezing still, her body stuck in fight or flight mode: sleep would elude her now, she knew, as the anxiety had set in and made her skin crawl. What could she do if she couldn’t even find solace in the world of her dreams? MEMBER NAME: Smiff AGE: Too old for this shit. OTHER CHARACTERS: Leanne Sangster, Bryston Morgan, ROLEPLAY SAMPLE Fuck this shit. I hate firefox D< |
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