Post by Delilah Sterling on Dec 17, 2008 11:28:57 GMT -8
--YOU AS PLAYER--
Name: Meghan
Age: 25
Time you have Roleplayed: 10+ years
Settings you have roleplayed in: Table top, online RPGs
Type of RPs you have been in: VtM, WtA, D&D, AD&D, Hybrids (VtA, MtA, WtA all together), and Gor.
--CHARACTER--
Real Name: Delilah Sterling
Nickname: Delilah
Race: Caucasian
True age: 22
Apparent age: Late teens, early 20s
Sex: Female
Portrayed by: Edyta Zajac
Eyes: Dark green
Hair color: Artificial - Black.
Hair length: Long (past shoulders)
Skincolor: Very fair
Body shape: Slim/feminine
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 130lbs
Other Features: No tattoos, no piercings.
Reputation: N/A
Strengths: Young Seer. Self dependent, coldly logical, remains cool under pressure.
Weaknesses: Introverted, mistrustful, fearful.
Likes: Feeling secure. Quiet spaces. People who let her warm up to them gradually.
Fears/Dislikes: Arachnophobic. Fearful of the Hunters, of ending up like so many others at their hands.
Job: Heiress
Family ties: Biological parents unknown. 1st adoptive father deceased. Adoptive parents presumed dead. No siblings.
Lover(s): N/A
Short history:
Delilah Sterling, sole heiress of Sterling, Inc., first discovered her ability shortly after turning 12 years old; roughly around the time of her first cycle.
She saw her father, owner of a highly successful steel refining company, change before her very eyes. Beneath the wrinkled green eyes she knew so well, wavered the glowing coal eyes of some monster. His warm smile could not hide the black, leathery lips and gums surrounding numerous rows of glistening, pointed teeth.
Her mother laughed at something he said, and kissed him, right on that salivating mouth; he looked over mother's shoulder at Delilah and smiled. Like images put through filters, his face as father, and this demon's visage, flickered in and out, in and out, gruesome and macab.
His was not the only face, but it was the first.
She checked her own reflection daily, terrified of what she would see. Her only consolation through those tumultuous times was that her face never changed into something unrecognizable.
Her mother and father went missing on a skiing trip when Delilah was 16. After a week, search parties were called off and both were presumed dead.
Looking through her parent's things, she found her mother's diaries. They chronicled numerous visits to various doctors, fertility clinics, and finally, submitting their names into a queue to adopt an unwanted child.
One diary referred to the biological mother as Jane Doe. "A haunted girl," her mother wrote, "still a child herself. It was so hard to shake her hand and greet her normally, when all I wanted to do was sweep her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be all-right. I know it sounds silly, but it was something about her eyes. I've never seen so much sadness, so much fear, in such a young girl's eyes."
Jane Doe selected my parents to have her child. To have Delilah.
Only at the time, her mother's husband was not some demon. Her mother's husband - Delilah's first father - was someone named Eric.
According to the diaries, Eric died two years after Delilah's birth. Six months later, she remarried.
Delilah tried to gain access to her original birth records, but they were sealed. She scoured the diaries for anything that could be used to find her biological mother, but there was nothing. Just that the teenage mother seemed to possess all the sadness, all the grief, and all the fears of the world.
As written in her demon-father's will, all of his earthly possessions and assets were to pass on to his wife in the event of his death. In the event that his wife was no longer living, they were to pass on to his only daughter, Delilah.
At 21, she was eligible to access the money left to her.
But by then, she already had an idea as to the suffering her biological mother faced.
For she was beginning to see things, strange things...
At first, it was just a flash. Not a vision, more like... deja vu. Only not in the sense that you remember this moment from somewhere, more like finding yourself in someone else's shoes, remembering something from their perspective.
In a word, it was creepy. Delilah didn't like it, especially when the flashes changed to glimpses into someone else's past. She noticed that it happened most when she was wondering something about the person; specific questions drew specific memories, while vague curiosities brought on any number of random past events from that person's life.
The only thing all had in common, though, was that the glimpses came only after she made physical contact with the person. So long after the time when she should have had boyfriends or best friends, she kept to herself, keeping her hands in her pockets and avoiding contact with others like the whole world had the plague.
She was watchful of demons, though she never told anyone what she could see. Schizophrenia, they would probably say. Delilah was in the dark on a lot of things, but she knew for a fact that she wasn't schizophrenic. She had asked herself too many times whether or not she was going crazy.
Demons were everywhere. Students on campus, a theology professor, a surprising number of actors and actresses (well, at least Brad and Angelina had one thing in common before the marriage, right?). The man ahead of her in the supermarket aisle trying to decide on whether to get rid of the plantains or the tangerines to make his purchase under $20.00. The kindly old lady across the hall in her apartment complex, whose grandiose wings and androgynous, youthful beauty faded in and out of sight with surreal grace.
There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't see at least one demon, blending in with the masses.
On her first day of her second semester at NMSU, a demon walked into her creative writing class, looked around, and saw her. Not in the way some men saw her, looking from her face to her chest and back up, but in the way she imagined she saw demons. Like he was looking through her face to who she was.
Unlike the tight expression of apprehension that seized her features, his face - both demon and human - broke into an expression of awed relief.
He took the empty seat next to her. "Don't go," he pleaded when she made to move. "Please, don't go."
His name was David. It took a few weeks, but he convinced her to have coffee with him, where he told her all about himself, and a little about her, too.
"I've never seen one of you before," he confessed.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I can see peoples auras. I've never seen one like yours before."
"What's it like?"
"It's unusual. Misty, yet clear... like you have threads of silver wound through it. It spreads farther away from you than most peoples' auras."
He invited her to go to a club with him, and meet some of his friends. He swore on his life they wouldn't do any harm to her.
And he was good on his word.
They embraced her like a long-lost child.
No one had any information on her mother. There hadn't been hide nor hair of a Seer in several decades, crushing her hopes that someone would know how to find the woman she had so many questions for.
The comfort and acceptance she found in the Underground was not to last long. On her 22nd birthday, all hell broke loose.
Not from the demons, but from the Hunters.
David had bought concert tickets for a show in El Paso; it was his birthday present for Delilah. When they returned, it was to find the remnants of a violence so horrible that Delilah was literally sick. The demons, witches, and other strange ones who had taken to her so warmly were all dead.
"We have to go," David said, his human face bleached of color, his demon maw drawn tight with fear. "They found us. Let's go."
He did not give her time to pack a bag. "You're rich," he said, dragging her into his car.
They drove to Phoenix without stopping for anything other than gas and restroom breaks. She found the demons there; they were welcomed into the new fold.
But the Hunters found them there, too. David did not survive this time.
Los Angeles, Sacramento, San Francisco.
Death, darkness, and despair.
It didn't matter how fast she ran, or how far she went.
It followed her. They followed her.
Only one thing burns in her heart now; they must be stopped.
For the Underground, for the innocent lives taken; for David; for herself.
And Portland, Oregan is the chosen battleground.
Codeword: Wicker
Name: Meghan
Age: 25
Time you have Roleplayed: 10+ years
Settings you have roleplayed in: Table top, online RPGs
Type of RPs you have been in: VtM, WtA, D&D, AD&D, Hybrids (VtA, MtA, WtA all together), and Gor.
--CHARACTER--
Real Name: Delilah Sterling
Nickname: Delilah
Race: Caucasian
True age: 22
Apparent age: Late teens, early 20s
Sex: Female
Portrayed by: Edyta Zajac
Eyes: Dark green
Hair color: Artificial - Black.
Hair length: Long (past shoulders)
Skincolor: Very fair
Body shape: Slim/feminine
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 130lbs
Other Features: No tattoos, no piercings.
Reputation: N/A
Strengths: Young Seer. Self dependent, coldly logical, remains cool under pressure.
Weaknesses: Introverted, mistrustful, fearful.
Likes: Feeling secure. Quiet spaces. People who let her warm up to them gradually.
Fears/Dislikes: Arachnophobic. Fearful of the Hunters, of ending up like so many others at their hands.
Job: Heiress
Family ties: Biological parents unknown. 1st adoptive father deceased. Adoptive parents presumed dead. No siblings.
Lover(s): N/A
Short history:
Delilah Sterling, sole heiress of Sterling, Inc., first discovered her ability shortly after turning 12 years old; roughly around the time of her first cycle.
She saw her father, owner of a highly successful steel refining company, change before her very eyes. Beneath the wrinkled green eyes she knew so well, wavered the glowing coal eyes of some monster. His warm smile could not hide the black, leathery lips and gums surrounding numerous rows of glistening, pointed teeth.
Her mother laughed at something he said, and kissed him, right on that salivating mouth; he looked over mother's shoulder at Delilah and smiled. Like images put through filters, his face as father, and this demon's visage, flickered in and out, in and out, gruesome and macab.
His was not the only face, but it was the first.
She checked her own reflection daily, terrified of what she would see. Her only consolation through those tumultuous times was that her face never changed into something unrecognizable.
Her mother and father went missing on a skiing trip when Delilah was 16. After a week, search parties were called off and both were presumed dead.
Looking through her parent's things, she found her mother's diaries. They chronicled numerous visits to various doctors, fertility clinics, and finally, submitting their names into a queue to adopt an unwanted child.
One diary referred to the biological mother as Jane Doe. "A haunted girl," her mother wrote, "still a child herself. It was so hard to shake her hand and greet her normally, when all I wanted to do was sweep her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be all-right. I know it sounds silly, but it was something about her eyes. I've never seen so much sadness, so much fear, in such a young girl's eyes."
Jane Doe selected my parents to have her child. To have Delilah.
Only at the time, her mother's husband was not some demon. Her mother's husband - Delilah's first father - was someone named Eric.
According to the diaries, Eric died two years after Delilah's birth. Six months later, she remarried.
Delilah tried to gain access to her original birth records, but they were sealed. She scoured the diaries for anything that could be used to find her biological mother, but there was nothing. Just that the teenage mother seemed to possess all the sadness, all the grief, and all the fears of the world.
As written in her demon-father's will, all of his earthly possessions and assets were to pass on to his wife in the event of his death. In the event that his wife was no longer living, they were to pass on to his only daughter, Delilah.
At 21, she was eligible to access the money left to her.
But by then, she already had an idea as to the suffering her biological mother faced.
For she was beginning to see things, strange things...
At first, it was just a flash. Not a vision, more like... deja vu. Only not in the sense that you remember this moment from somewhere, more like finding yourself in someone else's shoes, remembering something from their perspective.
In a word, it was creepy. Delilah didn't like it, especially when the flashes changed to glimpses into someone else's past. She noticed that it happened most when she was wondering something about the person; specific questions drew specific memories, while vague curiosities brought on any number of random past events from that person's life.
The only thing all had in common, though, was that the glimpses came only after she made physical contact with the person. So long after the time when she should have had boyfriends or best friends, she kept to herself, keeping her hands in her pockets and avoiding contact with others like the whole world had the plague.
She was watchful of demons, though she never told anyone what she could see. Schizophrenia, they would probably say. Delilah was in the dark on a lot of things, but she knew for a fact that she wasn't schizophrenic. She had asked herself too many times whether or not she was going crazy.
Demons were everywhere. Students on campus, a theology professor, a surprising number of actors and actresses (well, at least Brad and Angelina had one thing in common before the marriage, right?). The man ahead of her in the supermarket aisle trying to decide on whether to get rid of the plantains or the tangerines to make his purchase under $20.00. The kindly old lady across the hall in her apartment complex, whose grandiose wings and androgynous, youthful beauty faded in and out of sight with surreal grace.
There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't see at least one demon, blending in with the masses.
On her first day of her second semester at NMSU, a demon walked into her creative writing class, looked around, and saw her. Not in the way some men saw her, looking from her face to her chest and back up, but in the way she imagined she saw demons. Like he was looking through her face to who she was.
Unlike the tight expression of apprehension that seized her features, his face - both demon and human - broke into an expression of awed relief.
He took the empty seat next to her. "Don't go," he pleaded when she made to move. "Please, don't go."
His name was David. It took a few weeks, but he convinced her to have coffee with him, where he told her all about himself, and a little about her, too.
"I've never seen one of you before," he confessed.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I can see peoples auras. I've never seen one like yours before."
"What's it like?"
"It's unusual. Misty, yet clear... like you have threads of silver wound through it. It spreads farther away from you than most peoples' auras."
He invited her to go to a club with him, and meet some of his friends. He swore on his life they wouldn't do any harm to her.
And he was good on his word.
They embraced her like a long-lost child.
No one had any information on her mother. There hadn't been hide nor hair of a Seer in several decades, crushing her hopes that someone would know how to find the woman she had so many questions for.
The comfort and acceptance she found in the Underground was not to last long. On her 22nd birthday, all hell broke loose.
Not from the demons, but from the Hunters.
David had bought concert tickets for a show in El Paso; it was his birthday present for Delilah. When they returned, it was to find the remnants of a violence so horrible that Delilah was literally sick. The demons, witches, and other strange ones who had taken to her so warmly were all dead.
"We have to go," David said, his human face bleached of color, his demon maw drawn tight with fear. "They found us. Let's go."
He did not give her time to pack a bag. "You're rich," he said, dragging her into his car.
They drove to Phoenix without stopping for anything other than gas and restroom breaks. She found the demons there; they were welcomed into the new fold.
But the Hunters found them there, too. David did not survive this time.
Los Angeles, Sacramento, San Francisco.
Death, darkness, and despair.
It didn't matter how fast she ran, or how far she went.
It followed her. They followed her.
Only one thing burns in her heart now; they must be stopped.
For the Underground, for the innocent lives taken; for David; for herself.
And Portland, Oregan is the chosen battleground.
Codeword: Wicker
I knew that you'd want to talk about this one 
