Post by agathastpatience on May 24, 2013 14:01:40 GMT -5
INTRODUCING!
AGATHA ST PATIENCE
AGATHA ST PATIENCE
[/color][/size]NIGHTMARE
now your nightmare comes to life
NAME: agatha saint patience.
AGE: 600
BIRTHDAY: just the day and month
GENDER: xx
SPECIES: full demon
ORIENTATION: bisexual, leaning toward asexual
OCCUPATION: unemployed and looking to open an illustrious brothel in the city.DRAGGED YA DOWN BELOW
down to the devil's show[/center]
HEIGHT: obvious
WEIGHT: 122 lbs.
BUILD: tall and lithe, fragile and boney but with ample (fake, of course) breasts.
HAIR: chestnut, sometimes black – pending the season.
EYES: hazel
INK AND PIERCINGS:a dreadfully outdated cross tattoo on the side of her right hand.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: no marks
POWERS: can control the emotional plane of the room, also exhibits extreme strength and the ability to suspend and reanimate objects.
PLAY-BY: lana del rey
TO BE HIS GUEST FOREVER
[/color][/size]peace of mind is less than never![/right]
FEARS: loss of power, distortion of physical beauty, children.
LIKES: vanity, aesthetic beauty, discord, lies, sex, envy, sorrow, herself, profit, torture, being sullen, complaining.
DISLIKES: joy, complacency, positive people, being underminded, contentment, herself, sex, tactless women, men, animals.
STRENGTHS: her blasé nature, her business savvy.
WEAKNESSES: anything at all to do with vanity or beauty, her inability to comprehend the consequences for her actions.
DEEPEST SECRET: she was desperately in love with her own brother; dismayed that her devotion was unrequited, she dismembered him. to this day she covets a small patch of skin of his that showcases a childhood scar.
PERSONALITY: Agatha’s personality is a fairly simple one. Her entire pathology is comprised of a deep-rooted narcissism and brandished with an entirely unfounded self loathing. From when Agatha first meets someone to long after a bond has been forged, her demeanor remains the same: she is self-centered, cold, and completely unaffected by her own or any other’s actions. She is obsessed with external beauty, and ultimately disgusted by many of the demons she encounters. She favours all things classic and sensual, and often times shows mercy and even what could be mistaken for friendliness to those she finds outwardly pleasing. She hoards women and men alike in an effort to satiate her need to be sexually satisfied, which is really just her need to be gawked at and adored. even when she is given the attention she demands, Agatha is unable to help but complain and pity her own self-imposed misfortune.
HATE TO TWIST YOUR MIND
[/color][/size]but god ain't on your side[/left]
MOTHER: unknown – 32 – succubus
FATHER: unknown – unknown - unknown
SIBLINGS: no
CHILDREN: no
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none
HISTORY: Agatha’s history has long since been clouded by the grandeur of her own self-serving delusions. One theory remains that she was born from a nobleman and a prostitute in the 18th century in the confines of French palisades. When she had grown enough she began to dabble in the businesses of her mother – taking to the streets in order to pick-pocket and sleaze through a meager existence. At twenty, and near death, it is rumored she begged for immortality in exchange for the children in her village. In reality, Agatha is little more than a vain succubus that has bid her time lying and extorting.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE SEVERED
[/color][/size]burn the world, your last endeavor![/center]
Hello. My name is Vanner Black and I've been roleplaying for six years out of the twenty one years I've been living. I found this site by chatting with Bru and I'm glad to be here. By the way, I read the rules. Pinkly Smooth
RP SAMPLE!
It was raining, and as Agatha rolled over in her silk sheets, she felt cheated. Cheated, because there was no sun filtering through her window and so she did not glitter. Cheated, because Pendergast had left earlier in the morning leaving her cold in her bed. Cheated, because she was so ungodly bored on another Sunday in the summer. But thank god it was raining, because the sun was much too garish. She rolled out of bed and kissed her reflection good-morning before demanding one of the guards to dispose of the mirror at once. “Why is all the cognac gone?”
It was raining, and for as long as Agatha had lived, she felt cheated.
The brothel was bustling, each inhale and exhale echoing against the sound of creaking headboards and flesh slapping against flesh – and really, it was disgusting. This, was a whorehouse – a well lacquered and perfumed slave ring of pretty girls and the wanting scum that shopped them up. But Agatha, who was perfect and pretty and cheated her whole life, knew the value of a hard days work – or rather, the value of a dollar. So all her dolls brought her dollars, and in exchange she let them run around her home and play with her lipstick and play cabaret (so long as someone else was cleaning up there mess.)
And someone always did.
And that someone was always Velvet.
“Why is all the cognac gone?” she mused again, her voice all quiet and gauzy. Agatha never had to yell, because everyone was always listening so closely. “Get me that girl…what’s her name? You know…get here in here now.” Agatha St. Patience stretched languidly and brushed at her curls and waited an eternity for old reliable, and felt dreadfully cheated.
Before long, six minutes had gone by before Velvet’s heels tapped through the room, probably scuffing the floor. “I called for you nearly an hour ago…what’s your name again?” Agatha said dryly, clearly having lost track of time or interest. She dropped back onto the bed and yawned, briefly glancing out the window again to see a patch of sun through the rain. She sighed. Of course the sun was coming out.
Agatha never got what she wanted.
“Fetch the books over there, read me the records for this month will you. I think someone’s skimming money off the top.” Probably Agatha.
It was raining, and for as long as Agatha had lived, she felt cheated.
The brothel was bustling, each inhale and exhale echoing against the sound of creaking headboards and flesh slapping against flesh – and really, it was disgusting. This, was a whorehouse – a well lacquered and perfumed slave ring of pretty girls and the wanting scum that shopped them up. But Agatha, who was perfect and pretty and cheated her whole life, knew the value of a hard days work – or rather, the value of a dollar. So all her dolls brought her dollars, and in exchange she let them run around her home and play with her lipstick and play cabaret (so long as someone else was cleaning up there mess.)
And someone always did.
And that someone was always Velvet.
“Why is all the cognac gone?” she mused again, her voice all quiet and gauzy. Agatha never had to yell, because everyone was always listening so closely. “Get me that girl…what’s her name? You know…get here in here now.” Agatha St. Patience stretched languidly and brushed at her curls and waited an eternity for old reliable, and felt dreadfully cheated.
Before long, six minutes had gone by before Velvet’s heels tapped through the room, probably scuffing the floor. “I called for you nearly an hour ago…what’s your name again?” Agatha said dryly, clearly having lost track of time or interest. She dropped back onto the bed and yawned, briefly glancing out the window again to see a patch of sun through the rain. She sighed. Of course the sun was coming out.
Agatha never got what she wanted.
“Fetch the books over there, read me the records for this month will you. I think someone’s skimming money off the top.” Probably Agatha.
THIS TEMPLATE WAS CREATED BY SIN OF ESCAPE THIS AFTERLIFE. STEAL THIS AND SHE'LL SEND HER KILLER HAMSTERS OF DOOM AFTER YOU AND HAVE THEM CHEW YOUR EYES OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS. LYRICS BELONG TO NIGHTMARE BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD.
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