Blink the blood from your eyes

and p r a y it doesn't see you




S h a d o w F o x                        M a l e                            A g e l e s s


"Syn" || "The Black Animal" || "The Shade"

"The Mortifera's Shadow"

"Bastard of Ash, bone and Blood"



 THE FOX varies in size: he is able to increase and decrease in size at will depending on the amount of darkness cast over the area. His figure can range from a small, ghost-like silhouette upon the wall, to a seemingly normal vupine, to a monstrous amalgam of eyes and teeth. 


    The shadow swirls and flicks like smoke every time the fox moves, not unlike a candle freshly blown out.

 The darker the area and the thicker the shadow, the stronger and larger Synova can become. 

> MILKY WHITE irises lack a pupil and to throw a white, lantern-like glow, which highlights a wry grin that remains a prominent feature etched across his carefully-chiseled features. 


That grin,

that damned G R I N is hardly quick to fade

- - - - - - - - - -


- The fox has a face -


> There is not much to say of his "Dweller" form, or "Stolen Skin" as he calls it, for it was taken in a time of dire need. Synova snuffed out the life, the very soul that inhabited the body and claimed the shell as his own. 


This humanoid shell stands at a height of approximately 5'9,  and bares ink-black hair against pale physiognomy. 


     He has the EYES of a Fox: they are Striking gold in color with vertical pupils when he wishes them to be. His eyes change from gold to a pale silver when he is about to shift.


This "shell" is seldom used. 


Charismatic ✔  Meticulous ✔  Bold ✔  Determined ✔

Egocentric X Presumptuous X Blatant X Audacious X

- - -

> IT IS needless to say that Synova is an incredibly sly, cunning, and quick creature. He will use his sharp skills to his advantage, and is known to manipulate others to his will. 

     He is a rather arrogant and oftentimes presumptuous individual who tends to prod at other people’s nerves using discreet tricks and sarcastic snaps to push his company to the limit. These are usually mere tests to see if they are "worthy" of his company, or could possibly be useful to him in some way, shape or form. Either that, or he simply finds you interesting

Synova is not the sort who will easily resort to physical violence, and takes little pleasure in blood-drenched rampages. However, If one succeeds in crossing him, Syn will be more than willing to stoop to the lowest of lows to get back at them, using dirty tricks and debouched strategies to make the offender suffer sevenfold.


He enjoys the occasional cold-blooded hunt, but prefers to not waste the effort on needless activity

Synova is very intelligent and has a talent for strategic planning. Yet surprisingly, he is oftentimes incredibly lazy and bears a lack of moral motivation. He chooses to scheme, hunt, and "work" on his own, unless he knows he will be able to get something out of working with others. Never before has he helped another out of the "goodness of his heart." The Fox always has reasons behind everything he does. He lacks empathy for the most part, so he cares little for taking lives or putting others in danger to meet his own goals. 


However, there are a few... particular, and exceedingly rare exceptions to this. 





December 4

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Character Gender


Character History/Story

Synova is by far my oldest and most well-developed character. His background, his story, his relationships, abilities/powers, and any interactions and other characters mentioned in RP have been thoroughly constructed through years of role-play. However, I still consider him a Work-In-Progress, and he will continue being a work-in-progress for as long as he is around. Any significant plotline and / or character interactions WILL become part of his main story, and will potentially influence any future roleplays to come.

Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Violence, Realistic, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adult

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  • \\Oh sure, I would love to plot, I'm currently open for threads at the moment :) 

  • A note of pleasure spiked in his blood when the move hit home. It’s always satisfying when everything you’ve trained to do comes in handy. Otherwise, those decades of fighting would be useless. His already iron grip on the hand on continued to grow.

    Apollo’s skin is harder than normal flesh. Something in it made it more durable so it takes a bit more pressure before the shells skin pierced through his jeans and into the flesh. Apollo didn’t expect the move let alone the sheer force of it. The distinct pop of the jaw was hard to miss. Had it broken or popped out of place? He didn’t know. But instead of yelping, a growl rumbled in his throat.

    His grip tightens on the wrist to the point that his supernatural strength snapped the bone of his enemy. But he still fell. Their battle it is a strange tit for tat. Once quick to act and again quick to act. Free falling towards the ground made him aware of how he twisted his body and since he still held the man’s arm he forcibly pulled him with him. If they he’s going down, they both are.

    His spine jottled against the pavement but he’s quick to round his spine and bring his knee to his chest. Every intent of driving his knee into the man’s gut again before using the momentum to throw him off and over his head. Only letting go when the body would twist with his will. But the adrenaline rush got to him. He used more force than was necessary and his head whips around, wondering whether or not he threw him away hard enough to knock the man unconscious.

  • |. Yeah same here,dude. Maybe we can plot or banter if you've got time to kill :)

  • It was that devoted kindness (sometimes) that she held towards hunters as a person that she did not slam the door on him at that very moment. She wasn't blind the the trepidation that he played on his features. But it never reached his forehead, she knew those plastic expressions of concern and forced turmoil when she saw it, frankly because she herself was just like, playing with her facial expressions to fit what might fool another. It only made her question more of this... thing. He didn't seem or act human at all. He just was.

    Now she was waiting for him to tell her know and inevitably leave, because she knew that the was not about to be invited in for tea. Her chocolate toned eye twitched waiting for him to make his leave--which he was taking his sweet ass time in doing. The lights then flickered and they shot up to the bulb across the hall. Lights didn't just flick in a building like this, she had lived here for years an nothing like that ever happened. Cautiously she looked down to him while he began to speak, now scanning him for the lie that she could taste at the top of her own tongue. "Aye, am ah.. happy t'help." She exclaimed to him bitterly. Her smooth features still predicated a touchy feeling about to him. Watching, begging, waiting for the creep to just leave.

    Then the damn lights again. She opened the door, swinging it so that she stood and took up the space in the doorway. It as a sign of defense, making herself look bigger and threatening. Her scoped brows twitched together as she stared up towards the light than shot down to him as if assuming that he were the cause of this. Things like that just did not happen in the HSHQ, it wasn't natural. Though, when she looked back down to him there was something different, alarming even that set her aback and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She did not remember that. She had a photographic memory, the huntress would know. He changed them, and it wasn't a mild change. It reminded her of that of a cat, or a fox..

    Now she was challenging it, gripping the neck of the maroon door, hard enough to put a stressed groan against the wood of it. She would not back down to this.... It was almost abominable feeling that felt as though to crush her, to make her fear. But her mind guarded against it and her back straightened, staring to the man with a spark of hatred that was reserved for many in those dark eyes of hers, what had been his if not replaced by those startling irises now. Humans didn't have eyes like that. But her tattoo gave no indication of him being anything different.

    She smiled, she did not. Not after hearing the name that she had no spoken to him. And it was not written on the door either. She responded low and with dripping venom in that accent of hers."No. Ya better hope ya don't." She would not stand for meeting him again. Mary would have some god damn talking to if she was going to shadow some malignant male such as this.

    Next he was leaving but the pressured air of an almost smokey like pressure was lingering behind after him. She glared at him all the way until she had to step forward and watch him walk away but.. he was no more. Not a sound, not a peep. No more flickering lights to echo after him. Her lips pressed in a line, then down did she look towards the ground where the paper lay. Empty. Nothing, not even a pressure of a pen. The fuckin' liar. The door slammed behind her as she grumped back into the room. 

    He better prey he didn't now. She was not about to play stupid mind games like this.

  • |. Pleasure is all mine,dude. Sweet fuckin' page by the way.
    Have a Happy New Years!

  • Alice's lack of interest before peaked the gentlest bit when he looked.. well, like a fuckin' sleep deprived, graveyard shift lab tech that never left the confines of the dark room with bright screens. Was he a hunter? It wasn't a hunter that he had ever seen before. He looked like he misstep from Hot Topic, what the hell was he doing here? This could not be a hunter.

    Regardless she stared at him, even scrunching her face with pulled eyebrows while hearing that strange tone of voice coming out of him. Why? He gave her just the heebie-bagibies. The bugger could waltz his way on back to America Mcgee's Alice whenever he damn well pleased, just get away from her.

    "Yeah, ya damn well are." She replied, trying to get the point across that she did not want to see him at all here, or ever again. The way she held the door looked like she was about to just shut he door that very moment, but he liked like he was going to ask something. God not again. She waited expectantly, half her body hidden behind the door. The faintest of the fuzzy red and black plaid bottoms she wore was visible, along with the straps of the black tank top that she was wearing. The heavy smell of pumpkin could still be smelled, he must have deeply interrupted a quiet evening.

    Now he was asking for someone, great. She her glaring gaze dropped down towards his hands as he went for the paper, mentioning the name Alice stiffened a bit. "Some late shadowin'." This sounded fishy, why did it sound beyond fishy? "Mary be down in the SCP section. Ya'knoo, down below. Ya need a pass from the main receptionist on the farst flar t'git yer visitor pass fer it. Er she could page Mary up, but it might be some time." What was a man like this looking for Mary of all people for. Mary was a jumpy little thing that was practically the nurse of the infirmary, what was he going to do, this goth kid, for a position like that.

    "Anythin' else ya be needin', lad?" Could she go now was the better question, she was getting no good feelings from him. It was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, in fact. Just leave already.

  • Risky indeed. It was a wonder that the HSHQ did not sense such a strange specimen among them. He was tall, dark, handsome as the devil. He got wayward glances from some, concerned looks from others. Witches whom narrowed their eyes at him as if attempting to pinpoint who this strange man was were nervous in seeing him. But they could not, who could they get mad at one whom was just here like the rest of them? Just a hunter helping the least fortunate of people to cross paths with a supernatural, sadly they were fully mistaken.

    Alice was indeed alone in her room. The smell of pumpkin latte was coming out the room like ribbons of smell through the air. Music was also heard, the hum of it drumming from the door that he was making his way to. Jason was out seeing his daughter, a place that perhaps Synova himself might be able to trek down too if he knew the right places to be, but it looked like the fox that Alice had only seen once, long ago at a holiday party was coming too. 

    The taps at the door paused her, she looked up as to who that might be. Jason knew better than to knock, he knew to come in. Nobody dared to speak to her, she as not a talkative person, so who the fuck was this. She knew better than to ignore it should it be something important so she paused the music--Micheal Jackson at the time--and swung her legs off of the bed towards the door. It was swung open within the next moment and she laid eyes on the man that seemed to be seething shadows off of him like a radiator. Her chocolate cold eyes took him in then those brows turned downward. "Who are ya an' what do ya want?"

  • Was his statement heard? Jason hardly thought so. Yet he knew they had to have been; the man was hardly so soft spoken that they wouldn't. Frozen in place where he had found himself, until the final confirmation was given. The silence- the tension between the stare was something that felt as if it were ready to snap like a rubber band. To what response was given, there was no telling the actions of either. Any could get him killed just as quick as the others. 

    The gap he had given himself was diminished to none with the fox's strides forward. Leaning back heavily on one of his heels, Jason would find himself still. His jaw tightened when persistent words came. There was a subtle twitch of his fingertips, the inventory of what he had on him running through his head out of habit.

    His stare dropped to the hand offered in front of him with less certainty than was present going in. His lips pursed, and he gave a shake of his head. "You can collect your down payment, you'll find it in the theatre... I'm out."

  • Amusement was hardly shared between one and the other as a stern expression landed on Jason’s face. As he listened along, the imagery he had come to in talking to Donivan once more entered his head. The child, the house, the flames. Perhaps he had known all along what side the fox lingered on within the story. He still didn’t know what to make of it moving onward. When the fox gave an itinerary until morning come, he said not a word. Sorting out what was overloading his thoughts already.

    The silence was a shared thing for the next expanse of time. Without eye contact offered, he still kept his stare on the obsidian creature’s form as if it would slip out of his vision if he didn’t. Was there more to be said, or was he going to be left at that? Words were forming in his throat to be spoken if it was the case, but before he knew it Synova’s tone drifted through the air once again.

     “So it wasn’t the kid, the family, not Donovan… it was the whole damn army.” Jason muttered as if to note bitterly, all the while Syn’s current human form had shrugged. He fell back into listening, weighing this information in his head. What would have happened, then… if Donovan had known of the fox’s presence? Was there any stopping what had happened? And the amalgamate of a creature that had forced its way into the library?

    Before a hypothesis came, Syn continued on to answer promptly. The further along, the more it put a pit in the man’s stomach. Remembering the Devourer, the flames. Putting forth an image to his head. “And if they had never infiltrated… the building wouldn’t have burned, then?” Jason suggested. Around the corner they turned, his boots stopping on the pavement not long after the other had. To the sight of the scroll being unrolled, hesitation shone in blue hues. There was something in the air. Something in his gut that was telling him to take a step back.

    “Some third party, or the kid himself, then.” Jason concluded under his breath. The words seemed dissociative as his mind lingered elsewhere. So he’d killed the man on purpose. Maybe he should’ve been asking himself why he cared. What the matter had to do with him, and- …well, that’s just about all he was thinking about.

     “I’m out.” He spoke. Just as fast as the words came as conclusion. Jason stared back at Synova almost startled that he had said it aloud. Something of a wild look in his eyes while his expression was stone cold. “Unless you’re planning on telling me the whole damned story, but you don’t seem like the type to do it, are you. You’re gonna have to find some other pawn.  I’m out.” The man spoke lowly, a bit more certain of himself. A couple steps back were taken to accompany it.

  • Sounds seemingly bounced off the walls of the library space, none louder than the pounding of the man's own heart in his ear drums. In a place where very little sense was allowed to be made, given the split seconds that accumulated into his time within the library. As for the current, those split seconds erupted in what were the sounds of the beast's thrashing. The slightest of attempt to glance back were given, attentive to the creature at hand as well as the cryptic task given. 

    To the sight of the child, Jason's heels pressed to the ground in an attempt to stop himself, shifting direction to follow best he could. Silence struck him no differently than as if a cold air had swept through the building. A wayward glance was cast over his shoulder to where he had once precariously checked for the whereabouts of the amalgamate. The screeches lingered as absent, replaced by the footsteps. Heeding the warning, Jason glanced back to the fox nearly apprehensively before his back turned again. Listening in what was silence until the huddled frame of the youth was found. 

    "Here you have it. What the hell's next?" Jason muttered quietly. A tone accustomed to the quiet that was the once-library space. The man's jaw tightened ever so slightly as the boy was hoisted upwards. He wasn't a child killer. And yet, it wasn't his job to finish all the same, was it? Taking a pose as still as a statue, the fate of the child was all but decided in his eyes. As the flames rose up, a brow furrowed to the withering of the second entity. Had he imagined that? All concentration would hardly stop a subtle flinch to the grasp of his wrist, eyes snapping to the fox. 

    Jason took long strides in pursuit of the doorway, leaving the building behind while there still was a building to linger. "...Do you feel like telling me what the hell is going on here, yet?" The man had the gaul to finally ask, feeling heat on his shoulders dissipating the further they went. "It was you then, wasn't it. You set the place ablaze back then... purple flames and all?" While adrenaline worked wonders on getting him to open his mouth, his feet were moving quicker. 

    Until suddenly, they weren't. Practically running into the other he forced his boots to halt. Blue hues snapped wide open. His jaw tightened once more, and seemingly every muscle in his shoulders-up went rigid. He should've moved. He should've ripped his head back, and yet, he seemingly couldn't. Jason's stare came as a mix of something aggressive, and confusion. Stuck frozen peering back at golden hues that housed something violent they hadn't prior. When released... he let a breath escape that he hadn't realized he was holding. Shaken, was a word of choice over the matter.

    "Young kid, acting strange, speaking to imaginary friends in his room. Obsessed about it, he said. Drew pictures of an animal of some sort and put them over the walls. You wouldn't know anything about that... now would you?" His eyes settled heavily on Synova. "He said people might've thought he started the fire that took out the Soulbound's royal family... Violet flames." The ending word lingered to leave a sour taste in his mouth, the further he thought. Jason's tone of voice dropped as he continued. "So, what do you know about all of this..?"

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