Remember me?
I am everything
you could not control
S Y N O V A
M O R T I F E R A
S h a d o w F o x || O l d G e r m a n i a n O r i g i n || ~500 y e a r s
"Syn" || "The Shade" || "That Damned Fox"
The Mortifera's Shadow
Bouncer of the Sanctum Café
> 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 f a c e -
-
> 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 5'10", 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.
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.
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Comments
-Cromches his tail- OvO
-gives him some chicken-
ヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾞ
Beyond the horizon a falling sun gives its leftover light to the shimmering haze of man’s putrid pollution, as it glides off behind clouds. And in the far off distance, the silhouette of the metropolitan skyline pierces through the sad glow of an overdue rainy evening, like a jagged mountain ridge. And, in its own right, it was an absolutely beautiful and breathtaking sight, for any that had the privileged opportunity to witness it from such a high vantage point that is.
But not even the very wealthiest of the bunch would be able to enjoy the scenery for that much longer, because in no less than an hour or so, the sky was struck once more with the painters brush, imbuing it with sharp hues of reds, oranges and pinks, all while overlapping one another in a stunning display of natures true wonders.
But that too, was just a passing thing, and soon all those pretty colours began to fade, as the face of the sun took its final dip, paving the way for the chill of night to lay claim upon the city. And as it did, it brought with it no stars to speak of, as all lay hidden behind gray, moody clouds. And below all this spectacle of nature, millions of light-up homes caused the dense mass of skyscrapers to almost glitter, like a pirate treasure trove.
_________________________________
Artificially created light was so sub-par compared to the genuine article, Robin thought as he walked. But they were also, sadly, the only source of light besides firelight, that Robin could take full enjoyment out of without having to suffer losing all of his vampiric powers.
The sun, previously enjoyed by the lad to its full glorious extent during summertimes, now robbed him of his strengths, making him the equivalent of a grounded bird during daylight hours, as he was just as vulnerable to hunters then as an avian was without the use of his wings, who would now be easy pickings for even the most inept household feline.
‘Oh to be back on the white shores of Whitby once again’, Robin thought to himself desperately, thinking back and finding himself standing on those sandy plains again, feeling how every motion forward there was some backward and down, just like walking in freshly fallen snow. Yet unlike the crystalline blanket of white during the winter time, the fine grains under his naked feet gave him warmth. And the beautiful waves rolled in, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach after they crashed in their soft way.
He can still hear his mother from atop the cliff, calling for his attention as lunch stands ready for their enjoyment, and how his father rustled the newspaper as he turned a fresh leaf. He imagines himself with a red bucket and spade, with nothing to worry him, no fears, no responsibilities…
He could still remember it vividly in his head, like it were only yesterday, yet it was now more than over a hundred years ago, and none except for him was ‘alive’ to recount the events. One or two photographs existed of that particularly hot summer vacation, sure, but with none left to put them into context...well it was little more than just a random photograph of dead ancestors, stored away in a basement, just waiting for someone to accidentally come across them while looking for the Christmas decorations and go; ‘Oh. I wonder who these guys were?’, and flip over the picture in search of dates and names, but thinking nothing particular of it.
Robin had on occasion had the thought occur to him; to visit these relatives of his and ask them, ask to see any and all things from the past. Something human. A photograph, or maybe a letter. Something. Anything to cling to in order to stave off the horrible THIRST currently working to undermine his humanity.
But the odds WERE stacked against him, on so many multiple fronts, because the desire, the need to feed from life itself, is not only a physical one, but psychological as well.
Now as a Vampire Robin prides himself with going years at a time without feeding off the blood of mortals, forsaking his more ferocious proclivities, choosing instead to feed off of the blood of animals to sustain his longevity. But while the repositories of zoological small life was enough to temporarily quell the growls of his inner beast, it was not enough to satisfy it, and every third year or so, the beast was released, with disastrous consequences, and numerous bodies left in the wake of said disaster.
And -now- it had been neglected and put off to the sideline for far too long.
It comes now in the form of subjecting him to a hot pain which sears through his body better than a branding iron, all whilst his mind is quickly conceding to the torment, unable to bring a sensible thought to completion. He tries to focus on the bright shores of Whitby once again, to pull himself back from the brink of frenzied hunger-induced madness, but the memory seems to slip from him, and he falls. No memory or feeling could now bring him back, not until he'd properly gorged himself like the bloodthirsty LEECH that he was.
Driven by hunger and instinct, Robin exits the building that he was told to wait by, to recieve his orders by Dracula himself.
And once out and bathed fully in the light of lamp posts he hurriedly passes potential targets on the street, red eyes meeting blues and browns without thought to them beyond the predatorial cunning needed to appease his blood lust. This meant finding an isolated subject, not an easily accomplished task, but he would find one nonetheless. He needed to!
He moves fast now, as rain falls upon him and lightning strikes here and there, and he manages to find his prey, as it foolishly wanders into a secluded alleyway.
The deed is over before he even realizes it, as his hunger is now satiated, his body reeling from the pleasures of claiming a life as his own. But a quick look down and he reels in horror of what he’d done.
Yet there is something else, something that is near, a presence that he can sense, strangely enough.
He looks around as the pitter patter of the rain washes off residual blood, and carries it to the nearest sewer grate. “Who’s there?” He asks, his accent clearly posh English.
-clasps the fox's face and pinches his fluffy shadow cheeks-
"Soooo cutee~" ( ˘ ³˘)
\\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.
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