Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3 WINNERS!

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Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3 WINNERS!

Postby mi ainsel » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:07 pm

    LINDSAY X MENHIT TWIN FREE ADOPT
    It's time for another free adopt! I love seeing you guys' take on this family, so of the second set of Mensay twins, another is up for free adopt!
    You can see the outcome of the first contest here! Maybe you want to contact the owners of the other Mensay children? :3

    Image


    They were designed by etheraus, have edited hair, and may be whatever gender you wish~ :3

    END DATE
    Hey, why don't we say the 7th of August? I will be open to extension requests towards the end~

    07 - 08 - 16


    To adopt this little one, just fill in the form below~ Please be aware that, although this is an impress me, the real key focus of your form should be their relationships and history - what place they have in the Kiaminal universe.

    FORM
    Code: Select all
    [b]Username:[/b]
    [b]Name:[/b]
    [b]Gender:[/b]
    [b]Personality:[/b]
    [b]History:[/b] (child - teen - adult)
    [b]Relationships:[/b] (all but immediate family are optional - you choose who they know best)
    IMPRESS ME!~


    RULES
    • Prettying up of forms is allowed and encouraged, just make sure the main body of text is a dark colour or grey for ease of reading.
    • This Kia may NOT be traded. If you win and later lose connection please return them to me.
    • Stay at least semi-active with them! On CS, dA or the forum is fine, but I don't want them to rot.
    • If you have questions about the family etc go here.

    BONUS POINTS
    • Family art!
    • Well developed relationships especially with close family
    • A history that ties in with the rest of the family
    • Clear character concept
    • A name that fits with the family! Menhit and Sekhmet are both the names of war goddesses, but really anything to fit their ancestry (South African/Egyptian) will score you major points in my book.
    • Asking lots of questions! My ask.fm link is in the rules section, feel free to drop in and ask whatever.
    • Long, well-written forms

    CLOSE FAMILY
    The Marais-Tau Family

    Image
    Lindsay Marais - mother
    Old associate and partner in crime to the notorious Lioness, Menhit Tau, Lindsay is a jack of all trades in the criminal underworld with a rather special difference. When things go wrong on a job — assassinations fail, gangs are pinned down, crew members captured — Lindsay is the one they call to sort everything out. With a 100% track record and skills in everything ranging from sniping to hacking, never has a non-specialist been so highly prized in the underworld.
    Outside and even during work, she is bubbly and excitable, a spirited and driven Kiamara with a fiery passion for life and her skills. She even gained the nickname 'Firebird' for her flaming enthusiasm and supposed inability to be killed, regardless of job difficulty. She's difficult to faze and takes everything in her stride without a hitch, with a permanently brilliant grin never leaving her face.
    Firebird got her name partly for the fact she always seemed to arrive quickest to cleanups at the scenes of explosions. It was simply attributed to her having some kind of thing for flames, but in fact the opposite was true. Lindsay is terrified of fire. She is terrified that one day she'd be called to a mission gone wrong at an explosion and the casualty would be Menhit Tau, her mentor gone spouse.


    Image
    Menhit Tau - parent
    Never has there been a more fitting name than that of the infamous Menhit Tau, the Lioness. 'One who massacres' - indeed xe does. A demolitions expert famed amongst the criminals of the city for xyr ability with explosives and destruction, this cotton candy-haired Kia may look sweet but is truly not to be messed with. Though xe doesn't technically run with a crew, xe has a certain... friendly rivalry with the sniper Vanoan Æthelind and their partner-in-crime, combat medic Mitch Caelix, and used to act as a mentor of sorts for 'Firebird' Lindsay Marais, before the two became a little too close to be professional...Xe loves cats, and despite xyr imposing profession and tendencies towards pyromania are a excitable and enthuastic, loving Kiamara who is fiercely loyal to xyr family.

    Image
    Sekhmet Marais-Tau - older sister
    Sekhmet is a contradiction, the exuberant violence-loving child of Lindsay and Menhit... With a debilitating fear of fire? It seems she takes most after her mother, for whilst she certainly inherited Menhit's wild spirit and love of demolitions she isn't very fond of being anywhere near the explosives. Sekhmet is no generalist like her mother, instead she's clearly a frontman with a fondness for learning. She's the one you want at your side during negotiations, the sure fire way to win any contest of manipulation and yet her understanding of Lindsay's many skills mean she is perfectly in sync with everyone she works with.
    She's always bouncy and rather silly at times, hard to throw off her stride and always smiling. Her curiousity leads her into many a sticky situation, but she's always confident her friends and family will save her in the end.


    Image
    Nekhbet Marais-Tau - twin
    Nekhbet may be the spitting image of their older sister Sekhmet, but the two are almost perfectly contrasting. Compared to the bubbly frontman with the silver tongue, Nekhbet is quiet, cunning, and always planning ahead. A strategist beyond compare, even childhood revenge was executed with the skill of a veteran criminal. They have a brain for numbers and facts, able to dredge up facts from long ago and memorise maps and patrol routes almost instantaneously. They are not someone you want against you, an invaluable asset to whichever team they deem worthy of their presence.
    Sweet as sugar with family and cold as ice with plans, they can switch between aliases in the blink of an eye, keeping their work persona firmly out of family affairs. Truly, Nekhbet has perfected the art of subterfuge.


    EXTENDED FAMILY
    The Kiaminal Family
    There's a bar on the less desirable side of Sirena city with no name and no need of one. It's a place new people don't need to learn of, because if you are in need of it then the chances are you are already well acquainted with the place.
    It's not somewhere you'd go for a quiet drink or a date, and yet not somewhere you were likely to get mugged unless the mugger really wanted to die horribly.
    The owner and bartender has their own share of legends, a certain Mx Araceli Rendón — Spanish born, with dark-sclera'd eyes, a tiny frame and an attitude like a volatile explosive. It's how the bar got its nickname 'Fireworks'.
    That and the sheer quantity of danger ever present in the aura of the place.


    There's a very close knit community amongst those known as the Kiaminals, a strange bunch of the very best of the criminal underworld often found at the Fireworks bar.

    Furfur — the shadowy informant known as the Fallen Angel with a million stories surrounding him. Somewhat of a legend amongst the underworld.
    Furfur, known to many unsavoury sorts as simply the 'Fallen Angel', is a seemingly emotionless manipulative informant on his own agenda, known as a socially incapable Kiamara with a particularly dark mindset, the ability to mimic personalities and a rather bizarre love of manipulating people. He is believed by most to be an actual fallen angel seeing as he was found in the forest as a child, surrounded by white feathers that had turned black, and there are many whispers that he killed those who found him to keep this secret. He delights in adapting to potential dangers, whether through gathering information, manipulation or perhaps as far as causing harm, though he's not usually the type to carry out what he considers the dirty work, leading most Kiamaras to label him a psychopath. With his calculating mind he seems to be able to talk his way out of any situation, though with his habit of annoying powerful people one can only wonder how long his luck will last.

    Murmur — sister to the Fallen Angel, a compulsive liar, con-artist and well known criminal contact known as the Risen Demon.
    Murmur, the even more mysterious older sibling of the informant Furfur. Where he is known to the criminal word as 'the Fallen Angel', she is his counterpart 'the Risen Demon'. She is an incredible pavement artist, able to blend in to any crowd and vanish in an instant, and can adopt an entirely new persona in the blink of an eye, making her almost impossible to identify. Every bit as manipulative and charming as Furfur, few resist her persuasions.
    Those who believe her brother is an actual fallen angel were equally quick to label her as a demon come to earth for the way she simply appeared in the same forest, surrounded by bloodied black feathers and with brilliant crimson eyes. She carved a bloody path to the city and claims to mainly be looking out for her brother, but this enigmatic Kiamara's true intentions are, as always, inscrutable. Perhaps it runs in the family.


    Cry Delphini — a suspected killer and close friend of Furfur's with a rather enthusiastic sense of humour and an unusually bubbly personality.
    Cry is a curious one, best described as minxish and oddly personable. If there's a way to cheat at it, she's already found it, and probably improved on it tenfold. She's almost genius-level quick at things involving cheating, hiding or deceiving anyone, including close friends, and likes to tell elaborate lies in the form of stories. She finds everything funny, even things that don't seem it to anyone else, and has a very distinctive laugh. She has a tendency to be up to no good, and will occasionally say or do the odd almost psychopathic thing, but her worryingly high strategic ability, skill at lying, and constant amusement seem to keep her out of the majority of trouble. She is always grinning, though in a vaguely frightening way.
    But is she a friend or a slightly psychopathic maniac? Well, usually both. Rumours say looking at which colour wristband she is wearing over the other will give you the answer. But she really only ever wears the red one on top. Maybe that says something about your question. Just... never trust her, or you'll be the one in tears.


    Free Lilitu — the mute assassin with a penchant for emojis. She and her girlfriend, street fighter Ariana Quinn, are often found wherever there's trouble in the city.
    None would guess from her appearance that this sweet hearted party girl is actually the feared assassin known as Kitten. Free likes it better that way, though she never really hides her work from anyone who knows her, to the point where she's essentially dropping hints in the hope they'll figure it out on their own. Not to say that she actually tells them, since she can't (or doesn't, no-one really knows) talk. Instead, Free gets her point across entirely in non-verbal body language, (and the occasional written note/sign language/mouthing for those who don't get this) mostly just a single look that somehow conveys whole sentences. It's a skill that has most of the people she knows convinced she's telepathic. She's mentioned before that it makes it difficult for her enemies to get information out of her, but whether this is a joke or from an actual event in her past that made her mute is unknown. It's hard to determine humour without tone, even with Free's prevalent use of emoticons in her notes and texts. She's quite closed about most of her life and likes a joke, particularly when people take her seriously, so the general consensus is that it's not true.
    Amusingly enough considering her name, she's a talented traceur, an ability that she uses regularly in order to be the best at her job. Outside of her job though, she can often be found practising her skills or casually running the rooftops of the city as her 'morning jog'.



    Araceli Rendón — owner of the Fireworks bar, a tiny but fierce Spanish Kiamara who the regulars would all fight to defend.
    Araceli runs a bar on the... less desirable side of town. It's a state that shows in its regular customers, a frequent hangout for the mercenary nicknamed Serpent, Mitchy the combat medic, the mute assassin-for-hire Kitten, a certain giggly female traceur/possible serial killer and even an occasional glimpse of the informant known as the Fallen Angel. It's a place of peace despite its less than lawful regulars though — even the gangs know not to cross the bar's tiny owner with their sharp tongue, burning gaze and the countless notorious criminals that would willingly do harm to anyone who threatened them. Despite their small size, the Hispanic Kiamara is a fierce, fiery personality with biting sarcasm and a great sense of adventure. Their love to always be at the heart of the gossip with their finger firmly on the pulse led to the creation of their bar, a safe space for illegal information to circulate. Everybody knows if you need to find someone, you ask Araceli, or at the very least head to their bar to find out. They definitely know how to handle themselves despite not exactly being an active participant of the criminal underworld, either through their friendly relationships with their talented regulars or as a by-product of some long forgotten criminal lifestyle. No-one can quite muster up the courage to ask.

    Vanoan Æthelind — cocky mercenary sniper with a love for music.
    Vanoan is a rather cocky Kiamara, confident in themselves and their own abilities. They are sharp-witted and easily amused, almost childish in their humour and is often the voice of reason to those around them. They are genderfluid and switch between their birth name of Vanessa and the self-chosen Vanoan depending on what gender they identify with that day — Vanoan for agender/male days and Vanessa for female days - though most call them Van.
    They are competitive and yet would gladly throw even the most important competition to spend time with their friends, being the sort that values the people around them above all else. Vanoan is a very physical Kiamara who enjoys exercise greatly and can often be found showing off.
    Very few people would guess from first appearance or even from knowing them that this bubbly, sharp and pleasant Kiamara is a mercenary, a hired gun with little concern over the morals of their job. Vanoan is well known as one exceptionally skilled with a sniper rifle and indeed most guns, and can often be found with a rifle over their shoulder and one headphone in their ear. The sheer normality of their life and social circle keeps them grounded though, and their best friend and platonic soulmate Mitchy keeps them well out of the worst of the trouble.


    Mitch 'Mitchy' Caelix— combat medic and Van's very protective boyfriend/bodyguard.
    Childhood friend of Vanoan, Mitchy is a rather imposing-looking civilian Kia who somehow manages to deflect even the worst kinds of trouble from his mercenary friend's path. He's a tattoo artist by trade, though he's gained a bit of a reputation as a fearsome fighter and off-the-radar medic, and in truth, is much softer than he appears. He worries a lot about those he cares about, particularly Van, and would do anything to help those in need. He's saved the life of several prominent Kiamara criminals, not least his best friend. However, he is determined not to drag anyone into the mess of a criminal lifestyle he's accidentally already a part of. Anyone who wanted to get close to him would most likely have to already be in the criminal underworld or at least familiar with it, and they'd certainly have to get along with Van.

    Lashay Emerald — model turned thief extraordinaire.
    Beautiful Lashay Emerald, former model turned thief. Messing with her because she looks like an easy target will just give you a broken wrist for your troubles. She's sassy and self-confident in both her abilities, looks and attitude, and none of them without grounds. Nothing can faze her, and she's very much aware of how to use her charms to manipulate. Despite this, she is just a slightly materialistic thrill seeker who loves the rush of a heist and reactions to her beauty. Though arrogant, she is not shallow and is in reality very friendly with the rest of the Kiaminals, sort of like their young, rich aunt who's always willing to fund a job. She lives in the city suburbs with her son Tadashi.

    Tadashi Emerald — the sweetest dead shot in existence, only son of Emerald.
    Child of famed supermodel turned brilliant thief Lashay Emerald and an absent military woman, Tadashi was always destined for a life of violence. Raised singlehandedly by Lashay, he gained great respect and admiration for the Kiamara criminal families and knew he didn't want to leave it behind. The gentle, sweet and kind Kiamara who everyone thought a weak link stunned the underworld as he reinvented himself as a mercenary with quickly-infamous marksmanship.
    He is honestly the sweetest Kia who must be protected... And he's a mercenary. Who doesn't miss.


    Iskra Sindre — relaxed getaway driver.
    It is no secret that Iskra Sindre had a rather awful childhood. From neglectful parents to attempts on his life, he'd been through a lot even as a teenager. What does come as a surprise, however, is that despite all this, he's still one of the sweetest guys around. Confident but not cocky, brave but not foolhardy. Always willing to help others, and a soft-spoken, polite Kia in general.
    He's also one hell of a driver... And a pilot. You need a getaway driver? You hire Iskra.
    It's the only surefire way to make sure you'll get out alive.
    Unlike the usual stereotypical criminal, Iskra simply likes the thrill of the chase and is not really involved in much other than the odd grand theft auto when left to his own devices. He just likes to drive and fly and do it fast, easily escaping any pursuers.
    He's a sweetheart with a wild spirit, a less than legal job description, and a deep-seated hunger for the feeling of freedom.


    Thaumé Nycthemeral — 'Seer' and martial artist, civilian partner of the old underworld boss.
    The first word that comes to mind when describing Nycthe is frightened. Despite their dark and almost imposing colours they are almost constantly afraid of something, be it phobias or paranoia. They often seem lonely even when it appears they have friends, prefers to be alone and yet is afraid of being forgotten.
    Tempestuous and with strong moral views, they are blazing, furious energy given form, made dull by the world and the demands of life; it is as if they simply cannot fit into the place in life they have been allotted. Others see them as bad luck and so, despite their hatred of superstition, they reinvented themself in that image; someone beyond luck and fate.
    Their awkwardness and unusual nature make them easily dismissed, something they loathe. Nycthe is at constant war with themself, torn between keeping up trying to fit in despite the torment it causes them, or remaining true to themself and obtaining some form of happiness. A civilian now running the Kiaminal underworld after the death of their partner, the underworld is their main source of support, and they would willingly die or kill for them.
Last edited by mi ainsel on Fri Aug 12, 2016 10:49 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby bellini » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:15 pm

Username:
Name:
Gender:
Personality:
History: (child - teen - adult)
Relationships: (all but immediate family are optional - you choose who they know best)
IMPRESS ME!~

RESSSSS
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby Chimericect » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:15 pm

    marking oDo
    not trying out uwu
I’m here mostly looking for certain closed species!

I’m active on DA and Toyhouse (same username) so feel free to hmu?
I’m pretty much only active in Kiamaras
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby Karmaloco » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:19 pm

markin me a res over here
Links wrote:DA, Chars, Kias, JBDs, Makos, Plumies, RPWS
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SIGGY UNDER CONSTRUCTION CONSTANTLY
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Nightmare|Wandzie.|Ravendarus|Varsity Bee|Shizz|viixen|iiPaw
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby Pyromaniacal » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:19 pm

Possible mark?
    linebreak
    ✧ ---------- PYRO - HE/ANY ---------- ✧
    STATUS: Cringe and free.x
    ANIMAL: Wukongopterusx
    GAME: Terra Nilxxiixxxxiixi

    ----------------------------------------
    FriendTradesSimas
    ----------------------------------------
    IF THE WORLD CHOOSES TO
    BECOME MY ENEMY, I WILL
    FIGHT LIKE I ALWAYS HAVE
    !

    ✧ ------------------------------------------ ✧
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby Sunniedew » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:22 pm

markin :O
To Do wrote:RCW:
x2 imports

C$:
-kaju
-lalia, x2
-asta,
-ipphie x2

USD:
-dragongodest x2

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ddd
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sunnie/snakies - he/it - probably playing minecraft
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𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱

i change my sig & avatar constantly lol
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Postby J-Hope » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:36 pm



    Markkkk
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby Offended Cockatiel » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:36 pm

Look at this poor boy
All dressed up in white
Now how can he smile
With a face of all eyes
He wanders the night
Through smears and words snide
Spinning round and round
His precious mind
Like dizzy neon lights



Image



"Hello miss...? What's wrong?"

"I've been shot ..."

Between the aqueous dark magenta of a painted sky and the trumpet of footsteps so scaffolded and deranged they sounded akin to physical grunge against cement, little droplets of red liquid began falling. She was and wasn't alone, and neither really was her benifactor when her body flooded the streets with her own blood, leaned down against a wall until the little miss' shape formed a collapsed, and rather upside down 'L'. The tailing steps of her, extensively horrendous, entourage murmured, barraged... Close, closer, touching upon breathing distance and distanced once more... subsided into fading.


There were those people who could not be persuaded to step into hospitals even if they were paid enough money to drown them whole, until cash was all they saw in their friends faces up until hysteria hit. These individuals had fear and distrust riddled through circulatory arteries like water through a river, the though of such a place, and the connotative description of hospitals as a whole, drove them away at Mach speeds. She was one of those special individuals. Petra had a habit of going on and on about the unmistakable, self-disturbed subject. "Couldn't catch me dead in a hospital," the naturally distressed murmur on her lips sold it. Although recounting the moments that led to her ducked in an alleyway 73 miles from home, clutching her gut, made her think she mite as well have to make that choice... between being caught dead or in a hospital. Hospitals were institutes, just as schools and parliament, and she rarely got along in a classroom to be able to listen to someone touching her wounds for the sake of work. The institutes caused too much trouble for what they were worth, asked too many questions, expected too many answers, and those internalized answers were the strand of safety that very much so kept her alive and safe. Hospitals mite as well have been the worst of the bunch of anything.

Wavering the medicinal stench, she'd sauntered with twisting trembles towards the white tiled floor, towards the front desks, picked up a slightly worn down pencil with a beige faded tinge, tied to a string that made its way windindly to the underside of the attendance desk, and stared at a stack of information sheets. There was blankness in her stare. The girl on the other side, baby blue uniform and all, tended to ignore things unless they began biting her in the face, and to her luck, Petra's glossy, large eyed gaze had a tendency to always be biting at prey. So, when their visions locked, and they did so for many traumatizing seconds, the ideas she'd been taught to process, all about concern and empathy, well, they rang clear.

"Hello miss...? What's wrong?"

And that's when she collapsed.








Door opens, shuts, quiet footsteps barely settle, ease against floor tiles towards her. Hours pass and again, and again, and again the happening of events keeps replaying as if the sanitized room was a broken section of video tape repeating endlessly. If not for the subtle tinge of anger pushing the nails of it's fingers up against her ribcage, she'd consider the state of shock to have warped her mind into a relatiive, repetitive, if not infuriating, peace.
Doors open, door shut. Soft footsteps eat up the entire room.

Another moment and she'd dissolve into the ever growing displeasure of the day.

Someone felt her moist head, recoils at the grotesque feel of it she's sure, dabbles their touch along patches of scathed flesh hidden beneath bandage. Aaah, memories. They sauntered through peaking, ungraded portions of brain.

"Hello miss...? What's wrong?"


"Are you okay miss?"

No.

She'd been taken into a dark room... No. A room so intense in its brightness her mind had shut off completely from it. Not a hard thing to do considering the turn of events. People began talking, moving, touching, examining. Stinging pangs straddled her very shoulders with a firmness reminiscent of mothers scolding grip, there was barely enough time or energy to protest. And yet she wouldn't admit it, how she'd screeched in inhuman agony suddenly. Drastically. The bleary spot of memory condensed to a patchwork of mild screams, guttural to the sense. Shameful to a single reminiscent thought.

Whence they put pressure to the injured tissue, as anyone should do, she'd crumbled into them.

No.


The door shut. The door opened. Everything about those moments steeped her stumbling mind space. A hand stroked against her forehead sweeping away momentary anxieties with humanity, and foreward new bursts of anger. If she were truly, fully awake Petra would have put up arms already.





They'd asked her what she was called 17-18-19 times now. And with the amounts of time ringing up she'd have to admit there was creativity in the artistic battering of their finely picked words. Among other things. Indirectly asking the question is still asking the damn question.
A single, solitary week passed just shy of yesterday. She kept note of it, diligently orchestrated hours of nothing into a tenderly packed mental agenda as if the balance of humanity depended on it.

The balance of her mind surely did.

Everything within the world had slowed to a listless pace, even the eggshell draperies eroded by wind pining to feel something– like actual existence again. To get out. But the hospital called, hastened, grabbed and cradled and hung. Petra didn't understand how the routine of things here, surrounded by pale, just barely off-white walls, floors, dresses drearily lulled an individuals senses. Into cadaver like immersion. With a voice so monotone the actual sense of apathy mite have gotten jealous.

She was going to be sick... Best place for it.
......

Like clockwork nurses fixed and fussed, like clockwork she ignored it. Easy, considering how she'd tune out shrill niceties from all around ever since age 9. She began counting the jankie way the rooms expensive wall clock ticked off beat at every hour. 32 half ticks, 44 full at 6 PM.

That clock is 16 minutes late today.
She had time for this, and plenty of it.

A doctor came in, this was a hospital afterall, at precisely 7:11, mused about how he wasn't late, just look at the clock, with an "Aha!" and a clap of the hands as if he needed a dose of self-helped applaus for figuring out how time worked. Congratulations- you've passed grade school capabilities. But, he was just around 17 minutes late. 7:10 was the meetup time, as of 7– the clock was still 16 minutes late.

And she knew it for a fact.

The room had its rhythm, another object among many to do one thing several time. She checked watching the clock and seeing a doctor off of the docket for today. Yay. And Fit of Unrequited Anger #8 was pleasurably just on time. Woop dee doo! Number 9 was ahead of time, even early expensive wall clock time, will miracles never cease?

If one more thing repeated– one more not-the-same yet exactly the same question, one more patient moaning trivialities, one more "How are you doing?" from one more nurse... She'd have it. Her subconscious was about to eat itself alive in this ambling scene.

Mr. Doctor talked to her about the day- my wasn't the sunshine just a delight, doubled as a therapist while commenting on how she appeared down, patted her hand for an awkward amount of consolidating length and drew back. She could his hand linger with all of its humbling care... Discomfort was not a word unfamiliar to her. Although, she wouldnt expect any less. This was just off brand peachy keen sweetness and sunshine vomit inducing kindness afterall. A long sentence to allude to fake hospitality.

"Is anything different for you today?"

She faked emotion in her gaze.

Easily bewitched senses reminiscent to exhausted, painful, unnamable emotions crept into her perfectly set smile and turned it awry. Her lip twitched. Petra swallowed, distanced herself. Only thinking about pushing so that she waded along murky, overly attached, memories of how home was.
"I... don't remember... Sorry." A gently placed upturn of the brows, a precarious glint of pain when glancing over, a smile that murmured 'Thank you' relentlessly 'I'm helpless, defenseless' at every opportunity. Natural wasn't presumptuous enough of her skillset.

Only truth was found in the yearning of her expression when wind blew by the window. A touch of the outside world. Make me well. Enough to leave. Give me one day and no more, so that I can stand, hide– run for miles and get to home. Waiting for me like I do it.... This was injustice at its finest.





Image





I'm the one that keeps the folds stitched together, I'm not the communal figure, I'm the one who shows too much, tries to shut myself down and stitch you all up.

The Unveiled Suture


Username: Offended Cockatiel
Name: Addo [King of the road] Marias-Tau
Title: "Petra" - Due to her ability to hide certain emotions until beneficial
Gender: Genderfluid [No preference on pronouns, usually referred to as they, or she]
Occupation: Honestly, it's a mystery. Nothing's absolutely set in stone... Staying out of trouble, whatever makes money, quick term healing jobs [like very quick, good for being on the move, but a doctors prognosis is needed as soon as one can be found], and racing around mostly

Personality:

A week and 3 days.

It was quiet and still, always was. Why were hospitals so unnerving, Augh. She was shuddering just rolling the word through her tongue in whispers... And, oh, right. Someone was talking to her, what newfound knowledge. Peering towards the window and then back to the pacing woman before her- graying hair and slight wrinkles around rhe eys suggested 40-45 years old, possibility of Puerto Rican descent high- off on a long winding rant. Very lively. And again while she looked away, she looked away, the blurr of a white coat danced.

"You have no ID, no files, no nothing. We can't find anything on you. Please, tell us who you are... "

She glanced at the petite male nurse to her other side. Bald, long lashes, high cheeks, Arabian. Sure, they had their doubts but amnesia wasn't discernible. If she wanted to play coy and "Not remember" no one could stop her. She wasn't letting the cavalry that was her family and associates find out where she was. They were two cities ove, miles away, and not about to find out about such a mistake.

"We can't let you go ma'am! You're a blank name tag walking."

No, the name tag said Jane Doe.





Addo is the borderline child, neither truly tender, nor utterly murderous. Moreso, the child born just to live. And live she does, she has a particular penchant for it actually. Undoubtably she's the type to get into dangerous situation upon dangerous situation, and come out from the smoke, right before death snatches her away. Unscathed. Bullets will fly by her body searching for targets and there she'll be, a step, skip, hop, too far from their reaches. She gets off on that purely moment oriented feeling that appears.

Addo is the fast speaking switch who relays messages between her family and and her family friends, always moving about and untraceable, with a developed aristocracy of lilted vocabulary, with the ability to speak into oblivion in perfectly annunciated paragraphs. She takes time to pride herself how well her abilities hurdle her forward, a little bit of ego forms when the thought of sidestepping trouble comes into her mind. Quick on her feet, able to speak with a flicker of the tongue, flashing ideas with the snap of the fingers, Addo works with speed. It's her very greatest strength. Quite possibly, her most towering weapon.

Just a little too invested in the passiona of danger, born to remain alive and always working for that right, Addo has trained to fight for her life no matter the situation she gets into. There's quick thinking, and there are quick fists, and they pair nicely in delicate intervals, she knows this. Due to the time oriented way her world is set up, this young lady is very dependent on formulated plans of any kind to get whatever she needs done and in whatever way she deems appropriate.

Most aspects of her life are a bit of a habit, things that became routine once she hit her mid-teens. This, jumping into anything that fits her fancy, is too ingrained into her mannerisms to be let go of. It's who she is, a foible.



History: (child - teen - adult)

Petra, as she prefers to be called, though back then unmistakably known as Addo, lived the innocent childhood life one sees in tv. As far as she knew "mommy" and "nana" did run of the mill parent things on a day to day basis. Buying the milk, building pillow forts with her, letting her sneak into their bed when she heard scary monster noises, and she heard a lot, those little trivial things that parents stereotypically are known for.

The idea of anything else flew right over her head. Back then she was an immensely miserable crier, cried over everything, found reasons to stick out her lip and feel the fear flow over her and out. She was that little kid hiding behind nana's legs, face shadowed behind locks of hair, pressed against the back of jeans, fingers holding on so tightly to the fabric that her nails practically pinched holes.

It wasn't for the attention, which, in fact, she found to be an unhappy factor of her crying. It just was what it was. Nowadays she likes to comment, jokingly, that as a child she was crying for all of those days she would feel it a need when she turned an adult. She was crying back then because it would have been okay, excusable because she was young and small, and because she'd never, almost never, let herself cry by the age of 21. Her tears were in their own way her healing factors.

Other than crying though, Addo also habitually got lost. Of course with the family affiliations she had and with the abilities of both parents the little wanderer always found her way back. She'd waddle off if not kept at constant beckon, find herself blocks away from home at seven AM because everyone was sleeping as she was bored. At eight years of age Addo wandered into a nearby, albeit well hidden, forest– stepped in: 5:55 AM, on May 27 and was somehow found drawing in the dirt of a estranged deep-set, nature made hallow at 8:46, unable to climb out of her own mess.

This grew with her well into adulthood, this sort of walking away in a distant haze, it's a part of why she knows usual landscapes so well, it's all back logged in her brain from curious walking.

Her childhood was a manner of vast days, filled with ignorance, crying, hiding and excusing odd situations for little flicks of abnormality.

Started crawling- 7 months
First steps- 15 months
First word- "Semt" ie. Sekhmet

Had first, second, third play date
Met Iskra
Minor discrepancy #1- 4 years of age, Addo thought it'd be fun to walk away from where her sister and she were playing unannounced



Teen:

Becoming a teenager is a right of passage, a trademark placeholder in memory. Before age 13 Petra restricted herself from the dangers of her parents life. It was like she was following a rule of great importance.

Those– you can't sign up for these websites before you're a teen, no one younger than 13 can ride in the front of a car, sorry this ride is only for teens sorts of rules that she could have easily gotten away with breaking. Especially since this one in particular was something she had made up herself. She was closed off, even-tempered and cautious lest anything bite. Afterall, her feelings tended to dictate most of her youth.

Lindsay and Menhit weren't absolutely against her self-set regulation loving ways, god forbid she shove her face where it didn't belong at 15 and get mangled, or worse.

As soon as that first teen years hit she was bounding around the scene like she owned the place, eager to learn everything, grow up and manage on her own if able. Becoming a sort of plan oriented girl got her quite far, and her family members names got her farther. By 15 she was doing small jobs, juggling an inconspicuous pizza delivery with a little something else, or helping out at the local arcade while advising a con-job. A few pages beside the notes in class on archaic literature was a carefully kept and prioritized devision of every job; what it made, the limitations and requirements. Her brain hard wired her into thinking with data, perceiving in numbers so as to excel. One would find excelling was her only aspiration. And with each point reached, because of course she kept pinpointed plans on whatever was worth going for, she only talked more and more. As if making up for all of those quiet– or rather wailing– younger years.

Shortcut to age 17, where it was duitfully decided... Instead of gaining more armor with the more knowledge she earned of her families work, Petra rather reshaped her protective coat. With each new activity, each story and bank of cash, she embraced a love for avoiding danger as a feat. And with that love came an even more hectic love, for a love to avoid danger means a love for danger. At least in Petra's case. Talk about pernicious.

Still overly emotional, albeit much more careful with herself, Petra began making lists of emotionally manipulative techniques to use after innocently watching patrons of the bar jokingly, and at times very genuinely, sweet talk one another. Lists always worked. With each passing year, and immense progress that she'd snap her fingers almost impatiently at, this girl molded a form of herself warped of emotion. Miraculous if you knew who she was. How controlled by her brain, her tongue, her body language she never ceased to be.

This was her magnum opus.


Adult: A work in progress, she's only recently an adult afterall.
Currently- Petra is 21, and quite immobilized in a hospital to her disdain- those techniques for emotional control and patience unravel, restriction of the mouth does her no good



Relationships:


Lindsay: Lindsay has her life together more than Petra's able. Petra watches, and has watched, her go day on day in an unbeatable chain. Whatever is supposed to make her mother crumble only let's on a small scratch, a stumble, a slight scuff, and it almost drives her green eyed daughter mad. Petra works to be just as her mother is, capable to inhuman extent, taking things to a point of distortion, mismatching how high up on a pedestal her mother truly is. Since birth, Addo's always been attached to their "mama", so much so that its as if she were an extra limb, always there peeking out, watching whatever her mother does with targeted concentration. It's let on that Lindsay's mopp haired daughter easily sees her bubbly, excitable personality all with dire appreciation. She describes Lindsay as the forever grinning, bright and beautiful mama who has a miraculus ability to rescue three people from the laws grasp, all while on time for her school recital. The strands though are frayed, they have been ever since Addo's teenage youth. Mama can only be so much before she becomes someone to loathe, someone she can't help being envious of, and still Petra holds Lindsay in a distorted view, higher up on a pedestal than even she deserves to go, and her child knows it.


Menhit: It isn't to say Menhit can't handle xyrself but moreso that xyr daughter worries the world will kick and scratch when Menhit isn't looking. Whereas with Lindsay Addo idolizes, with her other parent she gets quite protective. Fire and those explosions are going to get xyr hurt one day, it's a given fact. A fact that discerns most of Menhit's vast skills, yes, but one that Addo isn't willing to let go of. It has little to do with someone's skill and more to do with the unpredictability of those flames. Her own kisses with danger [More like make-out sessions] have led to some pretty good scars and bruises, usually not on the docket but nothing some ice and distraction can't fix. She's got experience with fire, which can't surmass Menhit's overall experiences with anything :geek: really, but considering how she herself runs towards the flames until the last second, while xe steps back, she could almost guess xe may falter if ever that close. Probably not. Definitely not. Truthfully, she's worrying just as much as Lindsay over such things, even if she's wrongfully twists facts with a gin and tonic of possibilities and fear.


Sekhmet: One avoids explosions while the other lives to find them. An interesting contrast between siblings that's for sure, and one Addo pays little mind to whenever she's reminded of it. Although she consistently tries to get her sister to come adventuring through danger via teasing and bets. It doesn't tend to work. Either way, she's usually by Sekhmet talking about the previous mess she was in and whatnot, confiding whatever she can onto her bubbly older sis. Due to Sekhmet's skills in negotiation and Addo being the messenger girl of the family, self proclaimed, they tend to converse over what certain individuals are interested in for negotiations, and the secrets Addo has lined up on them. All hush-hush. Sekhmets fondness of learning and her manipulation techniques are ultimately what made her little sister decide to try to "fix" her over emotional tendencies. Afterall when it comes to Addo, her words continuously proceed her thoughts. She's changed a lot since then their younger days, sure, and her eldest sister had a great deal to do with it.



Nekhbet: It's almost as if they're twins or something, so similar in brain and with opportunity... As a little one Addo would hide behind Nekhbet and let her do the talking, negotiating, experimenting, and by god was she good at it. So good in fact that at times Addo would find herself replicating her stance, the tone of her voice, the way she walked with wide, expressive eyes. Some timid children tend to try to replicate bigger figures in their lives. Whenever she was hurt or afraid or whatever negative emotion was to be felt she'd wail at Nekhbet's side, because back then she was helpless and her twin was not. Nowhere near as cunning and strategic as her sister, though she tries add up, Addo was somewhat like a contemporary beta version of Nekhbet all of the way up to her teens. Somewhere along the line she intensely deviated from her siblings mold. This being said, due to the going ons of their past, Addo still tends to pick up on and replicate the others inconsistencies.

Nekhbet has become a sort of tutor for Addo, Intruigingly enough. Addo herself tends to memorize and forget quite easily, acing exams by the end of the month and forgetting the simplest of equations and descriptions as soon as the papers flipped. So, count on her asking her sister what happened; when, where and how.

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Last edited by Offended Cockatiel on Mon Aug 08, 2016 4:01 pm, edited 21 times in total.
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby m0chicakez » Wed Jul 06, 2016 12:55 pm

I might enter if I have the time! qDq
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Re: Kiamara Free Adopt — Mensay Twin #3

Postby found. » Wed Jul 06, 2016 1:00 pm

Perhaps <3
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DA • commissions open !! for usd/points :>


hi there !! i'm found, and i like musicals (deh, hamilton, newsies, etc.) and music in general?? (the beatles, peach pit, the walters, the smiths, foreigner etc.)

i don't get on too much?? but don't be afraid to say hi i need friends : ))
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