by GressgrinAST » Mon Sep 14, 2015 3:07 am
❥ username:
adventureswordtora
❥ name:
Alissa
❥ gender:
female
❥ odd thing they collect:
Alissa collects the prized possessions and trinkets of those who have passed away, whether she knew them in person or decided to just show up at the funeral of some poor, unfortunate soul and claim to be a long-lost sister, torn in half by grief, weeping over how she 'has nothing to remember her sibling by', until a visitor bestows a loved item of the family unto her, at which point she would flee, not sparing a thought for the grieving family she had left behind in the freezing rain.
With a spring in her step, Alissa would make her way back to her home, avoiding passers-by and not seeming to care for her fur getting soaked through. The item she had unrightfully taken would be clenched in her sweaty paw, drenched in rain, sweat, and crocodile tears from the Kokoro herself. She would smile down upon her catch, sometimes even laugh, before picking up her pace as she neared her home, ready to add her find to her ever-growing collection.
Photos framed in ornate silver hung haphazardly on the cracked walls, some tilted and some even upside-down. A large, brown cabinet sat against the far wall from the door from which Alissa enters, lined with broken stuffed animals with creepily unrealistic button eyes and stitched grins, fractured porcelain dolls whose eyes seem to follow your every movement, and paintings of horrors and disasters the world has yet to know. Alissa would place the new item for her collection gently among the others, and gaze upon it until her eyes hurt. She would then turn towards the door, where her sopping wet black dress hung on a hook. She would smile, and don it before running out of the door. Rinse and repeat. Time to find another graveyard.
❥ whose hair is in her locket:
Inside Alissa's locket, a contraption to which there appears to be no key and no latch, is the hair of one who everybody spare Alissa has long since forgotten. A Kokoro, Alissa's past lover, who passed away after an experiment gone wrong in the science department of the school, was buried along with his most prized possessions; his books, and not only books, but his favourite books, signed by the author and worth millions; but it was worth so much more to him, and everybody understood that. Everybody honourable respected the wishes of the recently deceased. But then again... not everybody's honourable.
Alissa returned to the gravestone of her deceased lover the following morning only to see a horrific sight, one which would never fade away from her innocent mind. The dirt was obviously disturbed, and torn-out pages had been flung around the graveyard like a hurricane had struck in that one place exactly. But what really got to Alissa, what triggered such an emotional response in her fragile mind, was the writing on the cracked tombstone, rusted red in colour, and obviously not paint.
'It was you that deserved this dark fate, Miss Alissa.'