[slasher // twig]

User;; Twig
Name;; Kasai
Gender;; Female
Art/Story that expresses his life(limit 7);; arrrrtttt

[a sky full of stars]

U S E R N A M E;;
Hello im 42. how do you do?
N A M E;;
Kite, for sometimes she is the powerful bird of prey, soaring. But other times she is the feeble man made kite, torn apart in the winds of time.
G E N D E R;;
I could see Kite as either a male or a female, but in this case I'm going with Female.
S T O R Y O F M Y L I F E;;
Like a deer in the headlights my life flashed before me. My paws fixated to the ground, flexed as a twisted stream of lights wound its way around my vision; curling, twisting, falling, breathing. And I fell, like a bird frozen mid-flight, all sense of feeling gone. I was dead, but I was alive. Blood flowed like sweet nectar, winding its way around my body. I had lost all sense of being, my mind floating within a small fissure of the earth. I was nothing, but I was something. In this case the paradox was true.
I was a pup again, swinging happily from a make-shift rope swing. But the rope – frayed and brittle – snapped and I was plunged into darkness. This is how my whole life had been – a happy conscience, often relapsing into an everlasting despair. My whole body was a substance. My own cells scattered about thinner and lighter than a rarefied gas. Every small dent into my confidence was received as a heavy blow and what was a small ruffling breeze to some was a cyclonic wind to my already vast self-doubt.
I was alone. A dusty room divided by revealing rays of light. The light danced its movements silent. For a moment I stared, transfixed by the golden, heavenly glow before a voice called me: ‘Kite’. Its voice sweet like honey called me ever so softly and the being formed itself from the dancing light. It floated, oh so elegantly! A glimmering golden shadow, an angelic light. It gave forth the simple words that had kept me going as a child: ‘Hope is ‘round the corner’. It was the simple gamble I was glad I took. All of a sudden the room swirled about me, and beautiful kites took flight. Elegant birds, strong and wilful - a representation of hope. The light twisted around them, in a beautiful, illuminating ribbon.
I was standing, amid a vast but simple flower garden. Beautiful lilies of gleaming white surrounded me, I shed a simple tear. For one whose colours are so dark, so bold, and so fiery cannot be a delicate one. For my eyes revealed more than my striking coat, inside lay a delicate heart of glass; shattered by words. It was always me, who when feeling so vulnerable was left alone and who when was feeling so irritated, so frustrated, was given all the seldom needed attention. Someone who was so brave and secluded, always left to cry alone could not be as delicate as a flower, and to others: would not. Perhaps inside none cared to look, for a garden is open to all; the weeping lilies of my soul strung upon a transparent heart. I looked down at my paws, I didn’t want to be here, forced into the dark depths of my own mind. I am a bird, trapped inside a cage; those inside can see out – enough to tempt the body, but none can see in past the obscuring veil. My cries are viewed as cowardice, my only escape, my only call before I am again silent. For the fire is so seemingly powerful, but the delicate heart within, crying for freedom, is a scorned minor; the source of the blaze not as mighty as the flame, and it is ignored until both come to death.
I am the kite, a threatening bird. But the kite must know its place, and not fly amidst the winds of fate, no matter how tempting they be.

The striking snake’s heart, is drowned in its venom.

And so am I.

[carmineflyer]

Everytime someone learns something new about her, they are always silenced... I must warn you here, to learn about her is to play with fire.

You don't fear me? Pity. That will have to be fixed...

❇User❇
Hello! I am PFDB123, a current kiamara non-owner. I hope to make this kia my first! I love her snake-like appearance, and the way her feathers fade from a light, innocent blue to a blood red, which fits in so well with my story. I love everything about her, the way her orange belly darkens to a red, the "bandit-like" mask on her head, yet all of this combined with light, innocent blues that all make her the wonderful kiamara she is. Dreamer, you have done a beautiful job with her, and I love everything about her and what I could make her into with her history and future. Any kiamara of mine would have art coming out of their ears, thrown into RP whenever possible, and I would be very active on the fanclub. But enough about me and the reasons I love this kiamara, lets move on to my form!

❇Name❇
Ker

I did not have a name until I was old enough to wonder why others did and I didn't. I looked for a name throughout the many books I had of me, and I found many deities, monsters, and men that had the names I desired. I found one that made me smile, though not in a friendly way, for in this name I had found the fear I needed to inflict. Keres are female death spirits, who take the souls of the dying men away from battle, "Keres" being the plural form, "Ker," the singular form. Perhaps that is glorifying it. Keres were described as dark beings with gnashing teeth and claws and with a thirst for human blood. They would hover over the battlefield and search for dying and wounded men. It is said that a single touch of their claws was enough to release a mans soul and send him down to Hades, for the Keres were of Greek mythology. In this name I found the fear I needed to please those I served. I am Ker, and my name will be whispered in fear.

Beware! For they say she is Death himself in disguise...

❇Gender❇
Female

You may scoff if you hear who I am. But an overconfident opponent is a dead man walking.

Confidence... Is such a silly thing. Confidence makes you believe you can do something that you can't. I've seen the confident people. I watched them die at my hands.

❇The Child of Death❇
They had watched her train. They smiled at her progress, her fighting skills, her way of analyzing an opponent to take them down. They nodded at her skill, and toasted her victories. They had molded her from birth, to make something unstoppable. She was Project-379, The Success, The Lady Killer. She wasn't a child, just a study to them, to see how to make the next weapon. Not enhanced in any way, just trained. They didn't take into account the fact that the training not only made her deadly to enemies, but to friends. A human wishes to learn, is curious, and no one can take that away from any person, weapon or not. They failed to understand that, and that was their downfall. The child knew no guilt, they had drilled that in. The little girl smiled as she drove death into their stomachs, their hearts. She laughed as they looked into her eyes, disbelieving. They didn't understand, but at the time, it all made sense to her. She left them without looking back, only feeling the heat of the fire behind her as her past burned away. The survivors say she took the feathers from the one she had served, his bright blue feathers. They say his blood marks them, the bloody blue feathers, for she saved him for last. They say she is as a snake, for she knows no pity and she knows no bounds. She will do anything to insure that she is the best among those like her. That is what they all say. But to know for sure, you would have to ask her... Do you dare?
-Ker
Please note! The stories below are a collection of reports gained from investigations into the matter of "Project-379," discovered on November 18, 2013, when a group of survivors from the laboratory from which they were rescued from the fire there, confessed in prison, that they had been working on illegal weapons there. Further investigations into this matter showed that they had not only been experimenting with weaponry there, but training several child soldiers. Investigations showed many of these child soldiers had been killed within their first years, save one. When investigations tried to find the current whereabouts of the child, many of the investigators mysteriously disappeared. Investigations were closed, and the case, abandoned. These are a few pieces of information gathered from "Project-379."
Confidential Information!
The little girl looked up as they entered the room, holding a covered cage. Jumping up from her cot, she shifted her stance defensively, until they raised their hands to show they meant no harm.
"A gift." One said in a cold, flat voice, and they backed out of the room, keeping their eyes on the child.
She approached the covered cage the same way she had approached the men. Analyzing it, she found no wires, nor was there any beeping or heat coming out of it to suggest that it was a rather explosive gift. All she heard was a creaking noise and tiny squeaks. Inhaling, she smelled no gunpowder, but the slight, hard smell of metal, as well as the scent of aspen and... Animal. Quickly, the child ripped off the cover of the cage, then jumped backwards, in case the animal would leap out at her. Instead, the caged animal squeaked in alarm and frantically dug its way under the chips, which accounted for the scent of aspen. Curious, the child approached the cage, watching the critter as it poked its little pink nose out of its den of chips, then its very long whiskers. Finally the entire animal emerged, shook the chips off itself, drank from its water bottle, and resumed its running on the wheel, which made the same creaks and squeaks as the child had heard before. The child watched the critter for several minutes more, until it realized she was there. It froze, sides heaving, and stared at her from the corner of its eye, in what the child noted was fear. Still, the creature did not seem to mean her any harm, so she let it be. The days passed in her room, and the creature grew less wary of her, coming out to look at her at times. Once, she took it out of the cage, and felt its little body warm her hand, the smoothness of the pink tail trailing behind, and looked into its red eyes, felt its soft white fur. A warmness swelled in her over time for the creature, and, looking in some of her books, she found it was called a "mouse." Mouse and her lived in a quiet companionship for a time, and the warmness for Mouse grew stronger. And then they came again.
He was with them, and they came when she was holding Mouse. She listened, a little, but mostly paid attention to Mouse, he was trying to run under the blankets again. His voice and their voices grew louder and more annoyed, but she felt no warmness for them, because Mouse was more important. She only felt warmness for him. His voice screamed at her, and she simply just turned her back on him, and held Mouse close to make sure he didn't run. He always ran at loud noises, and now he just cowered in her hands, shivering. She would have a word with them later on scaring Mouse.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, else she would have stopped it, a hand grabbed her shoulder and flung her to the floor. She felt Mouse fly out of her hands, heard his desperate squeaks, and she cried out, flung the man from her, and used Mouse's sound to pinpoint him. She found him, in the superiors hand, who was holding him by the tail. With one look filled with disappointment, flung Mouse against the hard stone wall. She heard his pain-filled yelp, the crack as he hit the wall, and the way his body curved in a way that seemed far to unnatural. The superior looked at her, as if expecting something, but she ran to Mouse first. She ran her hands over his small body, tried to pick him up, but he just flopped around, and was empty. Water dripped down her face in a way she didn't understand, and the lump in her throat grew larger, as she stroked his soft white fur and tried to rouse him.
It was the first time she felt love die, and the last time she would ever love again.
They watched her train, and she heard them talk about her. The punching bag flailed around, and it seemed as if it would break at any moment.
"Is she enhanced in anyway? Superhuman?"
Slam! The punching bag spewed sand, and her fists bleed, but she continued, a snarl building in her throat.
"Ha! You believe those myths? Please. No one can create super-humans."
Crack! The chain rattled against the ceiling, and the bag spun around, striking again, she let out a real growl this time. They were talking about her as if she couldn't even hear them.
"Well then, how is she this well trained?"
Kicking out with her leg, the punching bag slammed into her thigh, and it burned, so she switched to the other leg.
"We've trained her in various martial arts, as well as taught her to wield a knife and shoot various kinds of guns. She can also use a mans body mass to her advantage, as she is small."
Bam... Bam... Bam... Rapid strikes to the bag with her fists shook it, then she grabbed the rip she had made and used it as a sort of hand-hold, swinging herself around the bag to catch it from behind.
"Hmm... Won't she have a disadvantage? Since she's female?"
A true growl escaping her, she kicked the bag with all her anger.
"Ha! I doubt it. Ever heard of Sin Jo?"
The child slowed her punches now, she had never heard of this "Sin Jo."
"Ah... The guns-for-hire girl? She's one of the best."
Was she now? The child's competitive spirit swelled up inside her, and she hit the punching bag all the harder.
"We modeled Project-379's training after her. She's not as good as her, but still..."
Anger swelled in the child, and she let out something of a warcry, slamming her entire weight into the bag, clawing at the rip until all the sand had drained out of it.
She was better then Sin Jo. She had to be better. She would become better.

Rifling through the items collected, you find a video tape, slightly burned. Shoving it into the player, you watch the slightly pixalated clip, that shows TV snow every few seconds. It is in bad shape.
"Project-379! Stop this madness!"
"That's all I am to you! I'm a project! I have made myself anew. I am Ker now. I am Death." The child cried out to her former superior, lying, bloodied and broken on the ground. "And soon you will be dead!"
The superior inched away from her, from the flames that illuminated her like a demon. She had already shattered the walkie-talkie in his ear, and made sure he couldn't escape. The Project was a failure, and if he did not terminate her soon, then she would terminate him. To put it one way.
The child walks up to him, and he grabs his almost-empty gun, takes a few shots. His arm shakes, from a wound on it, and blood loss, and he misses most of them, hitting the camera that was recording the tape. Before the camera shorts out, you hear the cry of the child, as the bullet hits her arm, and see her grainy lunge towards the man.
You freeze it there, and try to zoom in on the face. All you come up with is a grainy blob. The face of "Ker" has never been seen by those still living.
You will never find me and live to tell the tale...

The kia smiled in her shark-like way as she finished the warning note, encasing the details of "Project-379" to her... Competitor? Enemy? Sister-in-arms? Sin Jo was someone to be feared, that was for sure. If she proved hostile, then she would be taken down. Well... For a moment Ker hesitated. She was much younger then Sin, and much less inexperienced. She hadn't taken on jobs as Sin had after her escape from the training facility. Perhaps she was out of practicing. A sudden, blinding emotion took a hold of Ker's mind and body, and she swung her fists into the vase near her. The porcelain thing shattered and Ker cried out in what she knew was pain as the shards cut her hands. Running to the sink, she washed the blood from her hands, then bandaged them. She reflected on her sudden emotion, one she hadn't felt in so long. Perhaps she had never felt the need to feel it. But as she bandaged her hands, she remembered an emotion she had seen in some of the people's eyes as she descended on them, like Death himself. The emotion that shone in their eyes when they knew it was over. What was it again?...
Ah yes. Fear. Ker was afraid, afraid of Sin Jo. If it came to a fight... Ker glided down to her table of weapons, musing over knives, guns, and poisons. Expert in none, proficient in all. Hand-to-hand combat was her specialty. Not gunning down the opponent from several meters away. Sin was her better, and Ker knew it. She reflected on this "fear" she felt, toyed with it, and discarded it. You did not win a fight with fear. You did not win a fight with confidence. You won a fight because you prepared and you knew your opponent. But this was not necessary just yet. Sin hadn't provoked her yet... Yet. Ker respected Sin and feared her just the same.
A cracked voice burst from her mouth, rusty from decades of silence; "I will have no fear though, when it comes to it. I am a Keres... I do not fear death."

I will be the best in my trade. Fear is a luxury, for I do not need it. I will prove my worth in this underworld I have made my home in.
Note: Sin Jo is used with permission from Neko-the-Gunslinger.

[carmineflyer]

I have a question: so is it do a story or do art or do 7 stories or art (like, oh I'm gonna do 5 stories and 2 pieces of art, or 4 stories and 3 pieces of art).

[yuketsu]

(its either one story, or 7 pieces of art someone already asked ^^)

[Bittertiffany]

User;;
Name;;
Gender;;
Art/Story that expresses his life(limit 7);;

[frostt.]

I don't even have a chance...res anyway <33

[whisky]

Do you mind adding an extension
to the 30th? ^^'

[.:Spirits:.]

Dropping out

[mulder]

User;;

mossyzombie
Name;;

Henrik
Gender;;

Male
Story that expresses his life;;

xx• For the longest time, I didn't know who I was.
As a kid, it never really bothered me- people and places came and went, and wherever I landed next was who I was until we moved somewhere else. You know how they say where you live influences what you're like? In my case, that was a little too literal.
In a coastal place, I was as unpredictable as the tides, changing and adapting. In a mountainous place, I was stubborn and adamant- but one wrong move, and I'd come tumbling down on you like and avalanche. So on and so forth.

To be honest, I'm not sure how I could do that. (Change myself with the places, I mean.) It wasn't like I hated my personality or anything, it was that I didn't know what it was in the first place.
Since my family moved a lot, I never had the time to really realize who I was, I guess. For a few months I could be chill, go-with-the-flow guy, and for the rest of the year I could be the typical schoolyard bully. It all depended on where I was.

I never realized it until I was older. But at that point, my parents were starting to catch on, too. They'd constantly ask me if it was to get attention, if it was to rebel against them, or whatever else they could think up. I'd always answer with the same thing- I don't know what it is either. Then they'd get mad and storm away.
Eventually they stopped asking, and I only got more and more curious about who I really was.
I'd visit everyone from counselors to witch doctors to see if they could help me, and I would always wind up with nada. No matter where I'd go or who I'd meet, no one knew what I was talking about. At that point I started to wonder, Would I ever realize who I really am?

That is, until I met the forest.

Of course I had lived around the forest before, had I not would have been quite the mystery, considering how well-traveled I am. My personality there would be something along the lines of a mysterious, patient type. (Think average romance novel pretty-boy.) This particular forest though was strange, and confusing, pretty much a complete enigma to me. I was always able to derive a personality nearly immediately in even the most indescribable places, but here.. Here, I had nothing.
At first it was muddled and foggy, whatever this place wanted of me, and I was so angry about it. Days, weeks, and months passed with me in this place, trying to decode it's secrets and make it clear to me.

It finally hit me while I was throwing a tantrum.
Throwing things had always been a good anger relief method for me. The thing being thrown in this session- a rock.
I'd plucked this thing from a nearby tree stump, where it had probably been sitting pretty for a good few years or so. Pitching it over and over again at the ground, I'd only gotten more and more furious, and when the thing finally ruptured- I stopped.
Tucked away inside that bleak, gray exterior were layers and layers of color, no two rings of color the same. It was then that I realized- After all these years, all this time spent looking and searching for myself, I'd never thought to actually think about it.

To be honest with you, I'm still not too sure about who I am, really. But thanks to that forest, I'll have an inkling of where to go next.