Name: Harmonia Sage.

Nicknames: Harm, Sage, Crazy-Girl.

Gender: Female.

Species: Complicated. Human and Other.

Age: Nineteen.

Orientation: Straight.

Relationship Status: Sweetheart you couldn't handle me.


What do you get when you cross a human and spirit-like entity that thrives in darkness? Complete pandemonium, utter chaos in fact. Harmonia Sage was born a nice normal girl, completely ordinary except for the tiny fact that she is not alone in her body, nor her mind. Enthralled by a spirit that lives in her head and takes over whenever it sees fit Sage is not what you'd call friendly and well adjusted, nope. Far from it in fact, she's bitchy, standoffish and...strange. But you get used to her...maybe. She didn't have many friends growing up, it wasn't until late into her high school years that she started to actually connect with people. People as strange as she was, people who weren't human, who were other.

But what is the entity? And why did it choose her? These are questions Harm's been asking herself for awhile. As well as wondering if she'll ever learn to control the creature or the wild powers it seems to possess. At first glance people often mistake her as being schizophrenic, hearing voices that are not in fact actually real, they think it's all in her head.

Under Contruction:- Bear with me please.

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Character Species


Character Gender


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Romance, Violence, 18+

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  • "I should not exist like this, either." The statement is as quiet as can be, barely a whisper from those old lips. There is truth in this, something so deeply set in his conscience that the guilt of still drawing breath does more than simply keep him awake at night. "But I do, for a purpose. Perhaps you must have one, too, ja? If are a problem. Not a solution. Only those that exist to be solutions can confond this rule. Is simple- ancient principle, without which, humanity is lost."

    He seems sure of what he's said, a hand widening in a sweeping gesture.

    "Enough of this. It's time to leave it behind. Perhaps you, too. Unless..."

  • The kitty would hop right into her lap and nuzzle her face into the woman’s tummy. Purring softly as she wanted to be petted and spoiled by affection, not unlike a spoiled house cat.  The kitty would then sniff her fingers because she smelled food and attempted to lick said fingers. 

    “Meow. “

  • "Was...?" Geist's murmur breaks the silence, his gaze turning straight towards the strange woman...or, at least, what LOOKS like one. Something is wrong- something is sharing that form, to a degree he has rarely encountered. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, and nothing fits correctly- half the damn thing has been inverted, and the other half is jumbled and broken into even smaller pieces, their ragged edges bearing no clear sign they belong together anymore, their image scratched, stripped, and painted over. This, he thinks, is what it is like to look at her.

    The poor barista already has the police on the phone. He realizes he's burned his chance to come back here, and he does not particularly seem to care, either. No, his focus is singularly on the stranger, where it will remain until given good reason to move.

    "You. You should not exist. Not like this." Astute and to the point, yes, but certainly not tactful, this one.

  • He moves in an unexpected fashion, standing from his seated position and walking up behind the stranger as if he had nothing but good tidings to deliver, or perhaps a hug to a loved one. Instead, a finger raises up, and a gentle tap to the shoulder is given. The stranger turns. Talk about having no tact. A tourist abroad, and he dares to wear that drivel? Surely he wears it at home with pride, too.

    Make America Great Again


    “Nice hat, young man.”

    “…Thanks, man, do you-"

    “Absolutely not." His finger taps the stranger's forehead, and the quiet interior of the coffee shop is broken apart by a flash of blue light and the smell of...burning flesh? A startled scream from the barista is hard to hear, the air itself crackling with energy that can't quite be defined in conventional terms.

    Where the tourist stood is now nothing. Nothing at all.

  • Amazingly, his order goes without trouble. He's learned how to soften the edge on his accent and bring out the Ts that tend to get lost in English when he speaks it. He does, however, thank the cashier in German. She smiles and returns the favor, though her accent is attrocious. It makes the old man smile anyway. He takes a seat and gets situated, nothing about him unusual at first glance. He's keeping to himself. It would likely take a lot to change that. He does not seem to be the type that is looking to make friends, or desperate for company, either.

    Imagine his surprise, however, when an ignoramous in a red baseball cap with vitriol written on it in white thread makes an entrance. He stops mid-bite, crumbs falling from his mouth and bouncing off of the table, spilling onto the floor and his pants. His eyes latch on those four words, and something changes on his face. Even the dull, milky eye seems a bit more alight.

    It's the look of a man about to pull a knife in a gun fight with the confidence he'll win. Of course, any expert will say that if the knife wielder is within 7' of the firearm, they'll be the victor if they have any training at all. But this old man? Surely that's just anger he won't act on...right?

    Wrong. His hand is slipping into his pocket. Surely it's nothing.

    It's not nothing.

  • 2:25 AM.

    The things that haunt the dreams of the man known as Steinholtz come by in a parade of memories and what ifs, teasing and taunting him while he remains helpless. Gaunt faces clad in striped, coarse clothing, gold stars and pink triangles, barbed wire fences, and rising smoke create a hazy dreamscape in which he seems rooted. No matter how far he tries to travel and no matter how far away he tries to run from it, the smells and the sounds will not go away.

    When he thinks they finally have, they simply morph again. A scalpel is in his hand, a surgical smock and gloves are covered in blood, and a writhing, screaming form with a black mass for a head instead of a distinguishable face is secured to his operating table. The scalpel in his hand bears traces of gore. What has he done? He can't bear it. He simply can't.

    The smells of offal and sweat cake his nostrils. Those of bodily fluids and chemicals make the air wet and heavy all at once. He drops the knife, only for another one to take its place.

    What have you done?

    WHAT have you DONE?


    7:28 AM

    Can he go a single night without this horrid dream nagging at him, hounding him like all the forces of hell want to conspire to steal whatever momentary peace he can find? It is dragging him down, making his days difficult and weary. The dread he feels before he drifts off to sleep is still no match for the oppressive exhaustion his poor form feels from the use and abuse it recieves over the day. Given the state he's in, as healed as he can possibly be, he's weaker than anyone should be. He functions on willpower, black coffee, and the fervent hope he can make a difference in the world.

    Thus far, that difference has, yes, been minimal. But maybe one day it can be greater. Maybe one day, he can claim a greater impact. That, perhaps, would be when he can well and truly rest.

    Such melancholy thoughts haunt every morning, yes, but this one is different- it's the start of a new month, which means it's time for breakfast. His habits rarely shift. He visits the same cafe, gets the same latte, and orders one of three different pastries every time. It's the closest to home he can get where he's currently settled. He does not think he could ever return to Dresden, so he must make do.

    Getting clothes on is a slow process for his aching bones, but before too long, he's off. The way to get around those aching, destroyed tendons and still move? Easy. Float an inch off the ground. He's so short anyway that people rarely notice, since it's such a trivial amount of space. He can decrease this to about half of one if he must, but if he gets down to tiny amounts of cenimeters, he falters, stumbles, and often ends up tripping over things on the ground around him.

    Hopefully, nothing unpleasant interrupts his morning.

    At least, not until he's had his coffee.

  • The cat had many different owners and encounters with people, throughout her very long life on this planet. She had many adventures and would continue to have more. A new chapter would start with meeting some new people and a person she was coming to cross paths with, would be different then the norm.

    As a cat that was perfectly comfortable around fire, the dead, demons, witches, and the like. She was very attuned to creatures of the dark and darkness in general. That was why when she felt something new on the horizon, she couldn’t help but wonder where this new dark feeling was coming from. Ever the curious little kitty, she took off to find this new source of darkness and find it she would. After several days she would track the source down to a humanoid female. Cocking her head to the side as she looked at the woman from the side. Kilala would study her a moment before moving and stopping right in front of the woman’s path. Glancing at her with those big, expressionate, blood red demonic eyes of hers.

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Activity Feed

Harmonia Sage updated their profile photo
Feb 3
Harmonia Sage and Nina LockHart,The HellHound Cop are now friends
Jan 1
Harmonia Sage updated their profile photo
Dec 18, 2017
Harmonia Sage updated their profile photo
Dec 18, 2017
Harmonia Sage updated their profile photo
Dec 18, 2017
Obergeist [Dr. J. Steinholtz] and Harmonia Sage are now friends
Nov 19, 2017
Harmonia Sage is now friends with Kane Henderson, Daniel Mcknight and Mini ☆
Nov 10, 2017
Harmonia Sage is now friends with WIP and Kilala,Demonic Witch’s Familiar
Nov 2, 2017
Harmonia Sage and Daurgo/ Lenora, Ice Dragon Twins are now friends
Nov 1, 2017
Harmonia Sage updated their profile
Oct 31, 2017
Harmonia Sage updated their profile photo
Oct 31, 2017
Harmonia Sage is now a member of Writer's Realm - Roleplay
Oct 31, 2017