c o m p l y | a werewolf and hunter | closed

[sawyer beans.]

{{ When are we starting? }}

[Country Gall]

(friendly bump! I am sorry, I haven't had the time to make my form, Sorry about that! But, I would still like to join, When I have the time to make one I will! Please still reserve me a spot for a Female werewolf! The one I am still in is going kinda slow on my side and don't ever get to really role-play! So Sorry about that again, And I would appreciate it if you would still reserve me a spot! Thanks! )

[Country Gall]

(friendly bump!)

[Country Gall]

(Friendly Bump! )

[Aniki]

{ We will start when most or all spots are filled. Isn't that when most RPs start? }

[city;]

- Exactly. Thank you Aniki. I will edit the front page, ad all will be fixed soon! Just let me fix my lunch. -

[Chaoswolf]

((Hey sorry, I was too excited to wait on a link ^_^ May I reserve a Male werewolf and a Female Hunter? Working on Bios now))

((I'm now working on Artemis's form. I'm not terribly good at making Bios look pretty. I'm good at writing them and writing roleplay posts.))

"Don't hate me because I'm not perfect
I'll never apologize or being me."

« Basic Info »
//иαмє// Azazel Barkley Connor
//gєиdєя// Male
//αgє// 16 years old
//ѕєxυαl oяιєитαтιoи// Bisexual + Experimenting

« Appearance »
//dιѕтιиcтινє fєαтυяєѕ//Azazel's most distinctive feature is his eyes. They are a dark foggy blue. They are full of hatred and sorrow, full of bitter laughs and sarcastic smirks. They glow with pride and flash with determination. They really are his most distinctive feature. They are the only part of him that he desired to keep.

The rest of Azazel is nothing much to see really. He is Caucasian, but not on the paler side of the spectrum. He has freckles and blemishes as any teenager would. His blemishes are not horrific or scarring, though if you saw the reaction of teenage girls when he asks them out you would think they were. He's pretty accepting of the flaws on his face, but he doesn't totally embrace them.

His natural hair color is dull black. It's texture is not glossy and healthy, but dull and generally gross. Even after scrubbing it clean, it just never shined without a heavy dose of hair gel or a thick sheen of hair spray. Those products would make it shine but in a greasy never-want-to-touch-it way. Again, Azazel never hated his own hair, but while he was on the run it became an absolute necessity for him to dye it.

//вodу мodιfιcαтιoиѕ// While on the run, it became a necessity for Azazel to cut and dye his hair. While browsing the cheap hair dye and amateur highlighting kits, Azazel decided that the best way to hide was to be a special little snowflake. No one would think that someone in hiding would wear such bold colors. He dyed his entire head a dark congealed-blood red. He then proceeded to add random lavender streaks. Overall, he was pleased with the results.

He wanted to get a few piercings to boot. In prominent places like his nose, ears, and lips, to distract from his facial features, but he chickened out from even getting one. The same went for tattoos, though they were impractical in the first place.

//cloтнєѕ// Azazel usually wears whatever he can find. This means whatever shelters are giving away, charities, churches. The clothes he gets usually are at the least two or three sizes too big for him on average. They rarely match into outfits. On a rare occasion he'll even take clothes that have holes in them so he can layer them for the winter. Fortunately for him, people rarely look at people dressed that way. Whether it's because they're embarrassed or ashamed, no one's gaze has lingered on him for more than 10 seconds in over a year now.

Specifically, what he is wearing currently is a pair of dull blue jeans with worn patches of thread over each knee. They sag, hanging on loosely to his upper thighs. The shirt he wears is black with red and designs and letters. It's a promotional shirt for a band that he's never heard of, some underground emotional rock band that never got the attention it deserved. It hang's loosely off one shoulder from time to time, apparently the size was XL. Over the shirt, he wears a red rain jacket with a half scratched off Nike label. Over that, he wears a heavy jean jacket with very deep pockets, which is ideal for stealing things and storing snacks. Finally, on his hands, he wears those special gloves. Blue ones with that look like socks with finger holes cut out.

« In Depth »

//яєlαтιoиѕнιρѕ// Azazel's never really had time for a serious one. He was bounced around in the system for a long time. He had crushes when he was younger. The one girl that did like him was his foster sister of his third home. Well, the parents sent him away for obvious reasons in that case. That didn't mean that he didn't experiment a little over the years, but an actual relationship? With communication, mutual caring, and displays of affection outside "testing"...never had one. But at least he's aware of what he's attracted to, which is more than half the kids he knew could say.

What he wants...what he really wants...is someone who is understanding but firm. Someone who will put their foot down when they know he's just running away from a chance at a normal life. He wants someone he won't have to protect and coddle all the time, but will also give him the affection he so badly needs. Even though he feels he doesn't deserve it. In short, relationships would be very messed up for him. It's best not to even bother. After all, he's running for his life.

//тнємє ѕoиg// No Apologies - Eminem
//ρєяѕoиαlιту// Azazel is a rather complicated human being with a lot of complicated problems, but then, isn't everyone?

First and foremost, Azazel is a survivor. Ever since his parents died, every day has been a different kind of ****. Since he was five, Azazel has had to fight for his place at a table, a jacket that will save him from freezing to death, a toy to distract himself from his own pain, and a chance to get adopted like so many of the cuter, sweeter, kinder kids. Still, he's toughed it out. He's sixteen now and if he puts up a fight there's a 9/10 chance he'll get what he wants and a 5/10 chance he'll be seriously injured in the process.

Still, his fight for his life has never made him cold. He is very passionate about finding a family to love him and a place to belong. He daydreams of not having to be a growling, snarling monster to get what he needs. He wishes that he could show his softer more vulnerable side. He has no doubt that if he ever loved someone, he would never let them go. He would never let them put themselves in danger or tolerate a self-sacrificial attitude, even if it was what he loved most about them. He wants to have parents and siblings and hopefully a significant other. He just has to find them first.

Azazel has never had too many friends. It's not that he's completely anti-social. It's just hard to make friends as a runaway. He can't trust that they won't turn him in. The kinder people he met on the run had very good intentions when they called the police and informed them of a young man sleeping in the park, or in the woods, or in a house that was for sale. They wanted to see him properly and legally placed in a nice family...they didn't account for the fact that such a family would not want him. And now he has even bigger trust issues because the people out here are trying to kill him.

If he could ever settle down, and finally trust anyone at all, they would find that Azazel has a sense of humor. It can be a bit twisted sometimes. He might say a few things in bitter sarcasm that some would construe as funny and others would construe as rude. He hasn't had much training in conventional matters, but he has common sense. He's not a fan overly cheery "we can do anything" type of people, but they're tolerable. In fact, if you aren't competition for his own survival, then there's very little you can do to tick him off.

//нιѕтoяу// Azazel was born July 27th 1996, between towns in South Carolina. His family included a hard working grouchy but definitely providing father and a sensible but loving mother. He had two older siblings, each of them were only a year apart in age. They grew up in the distinctly rural side of South Carolina. Their house was a long rectangular box with a porch in the front and some steps in the back. They had a huge yard and lots of trees so when Azazel could finally walk, he was not lacking in exposure to nature. Their nearest neighbors were half a mile down the road each way, and even those closest houses had no young children so Azazel was left to socialize and rough house with his siblings. His father would come home, tired from work, but would tolerate his senseless toddler chatter out of what love he had left. This way of life was not perfect, but it was tolerable. Unfortunately, this relatively happy part of his life did not last very long.

In a dry spell the Summer of his fifth year of life, a fire broke out in the middle of the night and covered miles of land before a single member of his family woke up. His mother awoke to the smell of burning wood and the cackle of the porch lit aflame. Instinctively, she ran to her youngest son's crib and scooped him out of it. She screamed for her husband to wake then ran out back. Five-year-old Azazel was too busy coughing, crying, and rubbing his stinging eyes to realize that his mother had gone back in for his siblings. His mother was running towards the back door, his six-year-old brother in her arms and his 7-year-old sister being shoved in front of her. The roof collapsed from the front of the house first, but it went down so fast that it didn't matter. A heaping pile of rubble, wood, and metal fell on top of his entire family. Without even full comprehension of what had happened, Azazel broke into horrified shrieks and did not stop until his throat was raw and the EMTs were carrying him away.

Azazel was immediately placed into a shelter. The authorities were waiting for some relative or another to come and claim him. After all, who wouldn't want to rescue adorable five-year-old who had just lost his entire family in a tragic fire? Apparently...everyone. One set of his grandparents were already dead of old age, and the other wanted nothing to do with the child of their estranged son. No aunts or uncles nobly stepped forward as was expected. To the disappointment of all who were rooting for the now damaged child...he was sent into the system.

The system was not as bad as it could have been. He was sent to an okay facility. The place was clean and very well run. Although the caretakers were strict, they were not abusive in any way. The other children however...there were a few who were kind, quiet and shy. Yet there were some who were quite violent. Naturally, as the youngest and most apparently vulnerable, Azazel attracted the most bullies. Luckily, his siblings had not been very soft and cuddly with him. He was small, but Azazel could flail those little fists with a ferocity that made even the older kids think twice before picking a fight. This ultimately worked against him though...for the caretakers felt "obligated" to inform potential parents of Azazel's "violent tendencies". The homes that he did manage to get into didn't keep him long. Even when he played "Good boy", the parents could just sense that he didn't belong in their family picture frame. The homes where the family had other children were the worse for him. He had trouble sharing, because he was so used to endless competition.

Azazel was bitten while staying at his fifth foster home. He was thirteen years old. He was staying at a home relatively close to the ruins of his family home. He had been actively trying to avoid it. It was rather fortunate that his school bus didn't pass it on the way to his middle school. He thought that this might have been the home to stick but...the first argument he had with his foster parents (about his apparent affection for their biological daughter) was explosive. He took off in the middle of the night with barely any clothes a loaf of bread and no goodbyes. The hike to his old home was a long one. Eight miles of open country road past huge fields and tall grasses. He passed snakes in ditches and wandering dogs. When he finally reached the pile of rubbish, he imagined that it was still smoldering. He picked through the charred remains, but nothing was recognizable and of course there were no bones. Without a clue as to where to go, Azazel found himself preparing to return to his foster parents. They would call the services and he would be placed in another home maybe in about two years. But as he was preparing to go, he heard growling behind him. The dog was massive, huge, and running at him. Azazel never saw it stand still...not for a second. It sank it's fangs into his shoulder and clawed at his chest. The blood poured and Azazel believed himself to be dead when his eyes closed.

He awoke in tattered clothing in the middle of the morning. The claw marks on his clothes were clear and there was plenty of dried blood, but the wounds were faint scars now. Amazed at his luck, Azazel's practical mind kicked in. He had to get out of here. If no one had found him yet, he still had time to get out of here. Suddenly his mind was clear, he would never see that girl again either way but between going back to Foster Care and bouncing around until he was eighteen and running free for the rest of his life, he had an overwhelming desire to run free forever...

He's been on the run ever since. He's changed everything about his look. Before he could pass for a troubled suburban child of privilege. Now he was a homeless wreck. He passes in crowds unnoticed and undesired. He was truly invisible because people did not want to see him. They did not want to see the poverty or sadness they believed he represented. They did not want to see the monster he had become.

His first transformation was terrifying and painful, but ultimately, he came to think of it as a blessing. It was the most special thing about him, in his opinion. It was very helpful when running from the police on the night of a full moon. Hey, who knew running away was illegal?

"When I let this arrow fly
you're going to hit the ground and die."

« Basic Info »
//иαмє// Artemis Lorraine
//gєиdєя// Female
//αgє// 18 years old
//ѕєxυαl oяιєитαтιoи// Heterosexual

« Appearance »
//dιѕтιиcтινє fєαтυяєѕ//Artemis would say her best feature is her hair. It grows naturally long, and she's never cut it.She does drench it in chemicals to keep it shiny and glossy. She likes it pulled back in a perfect ponytail, the tip of which springs into curls at the small of her back.

Her skin appears to be flawless. That's the magic of very expensive make up. Her skin would be unusually pale, if she didn't smooth it over with powder to make a consistent barely tan color. Her body is of average height and weight for her age. She's immensely proud of how in shape her bottom is though, though she wishes her top was equally filled out.

She has dark brown eyes. There's a bit of mystery in them, especially when added to her vague smiles and soft whispers. What really sets her eyes off are her long lashes, she hardly bothers with mascara because she likes to show off their natural length.

//вodу мodιfιcαтιoиѕ// Her ears are pierced, though she hardly ever wears earrings due to the hazazrdous nature of her job.

//cloтнєѕ// Unlike most girls her age, Artemis is a fan of sweat clothes. She feels that jeans are restraining and tube tops are ridiculous. She doesn't wear your average sporty clothes though, her stuff is well-made and high priced. If she doesn't feel comfortable jogging in twenty degree weather through snow, then something's wrong with those sweat clothes.

She is currently wearing all white. Her half tank top and long sleeved jacket are just short enough to reveal her innie-belly-buton.The white capris stop just beneath her knees. She is also wearing white Nike shoes that are comfortable for running, hiking, and are water proof. The theme of the day for her is purity, which is opposed to the tainted nature of the werewolves she hunts.

« In Depth »

//яєlαтιoиѕнιρѕ// Artemis has never had one, never even been kissed. But she likes boys, she knows that much. She often finds them cute or charming, but never enough to pursue them. She knows what she's looking for, a strong, handsome hunter that knows how to treat a woman. If he doesn't respect her, he's not the one. If he has Knight-in-shining-armor syndrome, he's not the one. She needs an equal, a partner. And if she can't ind him? Well, she's very self-sufficient.

//тнємє ѕoиg// Army of Me - Bjork
//ρєяѕoиαlιту// Artemis is fierce and impulsive. She's the sort of person who could walk through a room and make the room ten degrees hotter. Maybe that's just the Aries in her. She is the person that one can immediately look at and tell she's the boss. In her rush to make a decision, she doesn't always make the right call, but she'll usually go with the first plausible plan of action.

Contrary to popular belief, Artemis is not a hateful person. She doesn't hunt werewolves out of some vengeful scheme. She does it because she truly believes it is the right thing to do Lycanthropy is a disease. It is a disease that it's victim spreads no matter how often they say that they won't. They spread it by accidental bites, and they spread it by having kids. Werewolves don't have the restraint to stop multiplying and so it befalls the solemn duty of a hunter to kill as many as possible and save humanity from the growing epidemic. She likes to think of it as putting a werewolf out of their misery, even though some have diluted themselves into thinking they are happier this way.

In terms of friends, Artemis doesn't usually have time for them. She is always researching for new werewolves to target, training for her next hunt, or hunting werewolves down. The closest she's come to friends are the allies that share her mission, to rid the world of werewolves. She is rather friendly to these people and always excited to meet and help more. She smiles and laughs with these people but there are times in heat of the hunt that she will snap and remind people of how serious the matter is.

//нιѕтoяу//Artemis Lorraine was born March 20th 1994, in a castle off the shore of Ireland. Her family was very diverse and wide-spread as werewolf hunters generally tended to be. This was sprung from a need to travel the world and hunt down all werewolves. Her family members had a tendency to meet their spouses on the run. The few that married outside the business tended to settle down for a quiet life. Not Artemis's parents though.

Artemis stayed and trained with her grandparents or a while. From the age of six she was skilled with a bow and arrow, at seven she mastered the crossbow and long sword, by nine she was shooting with hand guns. She had barely managed to work shotguns and riffles when her parents took her back to America. Up until the age of fourteen, they had forbidden her to work alone. They hunted as a family. But the strain was beginning to show. Werewolf hunting was rarely a three man job and it was too easy to trip over each others' toes. So by fourteen she was able to hunt all by herself. Her family fortune provided her with the money to travel and survive. Her kill count is now 24 werewolves, some of which she stalked for months before killing.

[city;]

[ Yeah! For sure. I'll reserve then now! ]

[flare ♥]

{ May I please reserve a female werewolf? }

[city;]

[ Of course! Oh, nice to see you again f l a r e! ]