Welcome to the Construction Site!

I'm afraid you've come at a bad time.
We're still in the process of reconstructing this profile.
Once everything is back in order, we will alert you that we are OPEN FOR BUSINESS!

Until such a time, we thank you for your patience. 

Author's Note~ Each character will be getting their own backstory etc. written up in due time. They are all wip's.

 

Wild Child's writer~
(Available characters below!)

• H O L B Y . H E N D E R S O N •

Female

~

Single || Peoplesexual

Herbalist

Witch

I wasn’t born yesterday. I have lived a thousand lifetimes, maybe more, and still I find myself contemplating the focus of a lens, the stroke of a brush, and the man who lives in the apartment across from my own. He’s in his mid-to-late fifties; tall, dark and mysteriously Italian. Every morning it takes me a hot minute to drag my gaze away from the open window where he stands, flexing in his Ralph Lauren boxer briefs. Sometimes I think he does it because he knows I’m watching. Perhaps he’s an exhibitionist and I the voyeur? My name… is Holby. I was born during the eclipsing of a blood moon. I often wonder if my parents were high trying to write ‘Holly’ and ended up misspelling my name. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise really considering how laid back they were. I say were because they’re not longer of this world, or the next. As far as I’m concerned, reincarnation doesn’t exist, and violin’s are the Devil’s instruments. Among other things. My childhood was a fairly educational and abnormally normal one seeing as both my parents dabbled in witchcraft, or “Devil worship” as our snooty neighbours used to call it. Whatever. Doesn’t make a difference in my world. Anyway, back to the story. The house I grew up in was a beautiful old Victorian manor on the outskirts of a newly erected estate of expensive looking homes with white picket fences, soft pastel exteriors and perfectly manicured gardens. It was like living in Pleasantville or Stepford. I’m leaning more towards Stepford, have you seen those fuckers? Seriously. So, anyway, life was spent in the grandeur of this beautiful house we came to know as home and it was great. We never really fussed with the outside world, and by keeping to ourselves, we became the outsiders. My family’s wiccan heritage goes way back. My mother’s a witch, my grandmother, and so on and so forth. Throughout each generation the bloodlines have thinned; watered down to barely a skerrick of what it used to be and our “powers” aren’t what they used to be. Instead, I’ve got books filling the shelves of dusty bookcases, drawers filled with amulets and talismans, herbs for every occasion, animal skulls, candles, crystals, et cetera. You name it and I’ve probably got it stashed, stored or on display. Did I mention that I loved plants? I’m an avid botanist and herbalist. So, there you have it. I’m a witch. It comes with the stigma that we ride broomsticks, cook children in cauldrons and look like hideous old hags with warts on our noses and hairs sprouting from our chins. If you’re looking for a spinster in a cottage hidden deep within the woods, you’ve come to the wrong place.

FC: Katya Miro

 

• S K Y E  • W I L D E 

Coming Soon

 

 

• L E N O R E •

Female

Caucasus Mountains

Single || Uncertain

Heritage unknown

Park Ranger

Hellebore Werewolf

"Aruuuuuu!"

FC: -

• D A E S Y N . G A G E •

Male

Wanderer

Single || Bisexual

American

Underground Fighter

Wyvern

Daesyn Gage is not your average out-of-towner. He doesn’t bite, I assure you, but you should approach with caution. His quick, closed-fist jabs can leave one’s ears ringing if they decide to brawl with this bad boy. But aside from his ability to win fights with little to no effort, he leads an otherwise quiet, solitary life away from the likes of people. Amidst the congregation of idiots within the confines of this one particularly active establishment on the strip, sat a table of three; two men and a woman. There were papers strewn across the tabletop and the woman was pointing at unmatched distances along the page for Daesyn to sign. He’s the burly guy with the pen in his hand on the right side of the boot. On the other was his best friend and fellow underground fighter, Jackson, and Jackson’s girlfriend and executive producer of said fights, Lilianna. She was a beautiful woman, but she lacked a certain… something. Probably why Jackson had her in his clutches long before Dae wanted anything to do with her. A curl of fingers has the broad of shoulder male lifting his glass of stout to his bristly lips, tongue stroking along the rim of the glass before he’s chugging back a mouthful, swirling the dark liquid around his mouth then swallowing with a neat bob of his throat. “Daesyn, are you listening?” Lili’s sharp, exotic tone pitchforked against Daesyn’s eardrums, causing the male to curl his lip back over his teeth and sneer. “I’m listening.” Flat, more than likely bored, and somewhat tired of visiting the same venue every single time he had to sign another period of his life away to the underground league of extraordinary fighters. Whiskey colored hues swept the bar lazily as Daesyn reclined back against the booth’s cheap leather, grunting as he cocked one arm over the backrest and rubbed his thumb and fingers together absently. No one knew just how this nobody became one of the undefeatables. But fame wasn’t something Daesyn needed. See, Daesyn was never known to remain in one place for longer than necessary.

FC: Tom Hardy

 

• G A L I A 

Female

Free Spirit

Taken || Land-lubber

Oceanic - North Atlantic

Mer

Wave Rider Cafe waitress

FC: Hailie Barber

• M A E S T R O

Coming Soon!

FC: ~

 

 

• L I B B Y . B L U E •

Female

Wherever the work is

Single || Straight

American

Crime Scene Investigator

Vampire

FC: Nadja Auermann

 

• - 

Coming Soon

 C H É (Special request) ~ Willow

L I B B Y ~ Virian

G A L I A ~ Tine Gealach

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Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella


Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Violence, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure


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Comments

  • [ Oh don't worry about it! I totally understand so take your time. Hope things are going well now :) ]

  • O3O

    Gets my shit together and throw down the words. 

    Alright, lay it on me ;) 

  • Guys. GUYS. I am back! I know it's been a while and I apologize profusely. I've had a lot going on in my world - still have actually - but I'm slowly (very slowly) trying to work my way through replies and get other threads back up and running. Please bear with me on this! It takes a lot for me to get inspired again but I'm doing my best.

    Thank you for understanding. 

     

    ~ Wild Child's author

  • Fiction shows crime as a mysterious brute. Happening during the dead of night, a masked villain-- someone with no real past or possible shame for their actions-- kills a complete innocent. Sure, realism may be implemented here and there within the main characters, but everyone else? The plot that begins everything? Isn't it usually just so plain and obvious? Not in this tale.

    Yes, one cliché this tale is guilty of, and that is of the night. At 2:35 am exactly, the doors to the nightclub of L'Éclipse opened to welcome a newcomer. As it was a Saturday night, it was almost packed full, just as usual, and the security guards were on full alert. A few innocent lovers quarrels and dance-room arguments had occurred, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Things seemed to be going fine, and the club owner seemed to hold no worries at all.

    At 2:41, the dead body of the newcomer was found in the bathroom, with the cops arriving just about twenty minutes later.

    And so, with that, the whole thing was shut down, and the owner felt much different than he had felt just a few minutes ago.

    ---

    As the scene became alit with flashing cop lights, everyone that had been inside the club was ushered out by a pack of police officers. The night was cold, and no one was allowed to leave without their name being taken down. And so, as it's customers huddled together, the club was empty and fully lit as normal lights were switched on. Watching this, Virian stood by the door talking with his hired security guards quite seriously.

    As the owner, this was the most serious thing that had ever happened at his club. Sure, he'd had a couple of people OD in here and a lot of fights, but no one had ever died. How was he supposed to even handle this? Apparently, the police officers didn't know any way to handle this other than kicking everyone out to preserve the crime scene. No one went in until two other cars drove up, with some sharply dressed people jumping out. They seemed even more important than the police, and Virian soon knew that they were the detectives that had been assigned to the case.

    Watching them walk in, he frowned bitterly. Not to be distasteful or anything, but Virian knew detectives only to be bold and proud. But anyway, they were there to do a job and that was it. As he was standing by the door, Virian took a step or two away as they passed through it. Just then, as he had turned his head dismissively away, a chill ran down his spine.

    With his breath hitched in his throat, the high elf whipped his head to see who had walked through. There was a vampire here, he was certain of that. Able to detect energies was one of the elves' natural talents-- one that was so logical to him that he immediately knew what had just passed in. 

    Having nothing to do but wait, Virian peeked his head to see inside before the door closed, only to be politely asked to move back by an officer. He lost his chance to see who the vampire was. Curiosity flowed through his blue blooded veins, but despite this the prince stepped back again. Suddenly, all thoughts of the murder (?) were drained from his mind.

    Had the vampire sensed him, too...?

  • [ Totally! I'll get started on the starter as soon as possible. Will most likely be with you in a day or two, and I'll hope you'll like it :) ]

  • [ If you'd like, we could do something with Ms. Blue. Perhaps it could help you with finding her better? We could start with Virian being a witness to a crime that she'd investigate, but ends up becoming a person of interest, and eventually an ally? What do you think of that idea? It's quite rough, I know, but it's something we can start with. ]

  • It was a cold wet morning as willow rolled out of the comfort of her warm king sized bed. Rubing her hand over her face she stretched out her limbs. The alarm clock next to her showing it was 4am. Perfect time to go for a hike in the mountains behind her home. Grabbing up her clothes she made a beeline for the master bathroom to have a quick shower before heading out. This was her Saturday morning routine she loved to watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain. Once showered she dressed in her favourite shorts and a simple black singlet. Hair still wrapped up in her towel she headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee. Adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk she took her cup to the table where she had her pack all laid out. Doing a quick check to make sure she had everything she needed just in case she ended up in trouble, not that it ever happened but better safe then sorry she thought. Repacking her pack as she finished off her coffee the sound of heavy metal meet her ears signalling her brother was awake. Sighing she rinsed her cup out before finding her boots.

    Boots on her feet, pack on her back phone in her pocket she left home and the sound of her siblings now arguing about the volume of the music. Just another normal Saturday morning she thought as she headed off into the woods. A smile on her lips as she began the long trek up the mountain. All around her she could hear the sounds of the wildlife waking up. Birds singing there sweet turns, rabbits running through the undergrowth. And the odd chuf of the mountain lions and there cubs. These sounds were what she enjoyed the most about her hike, being one with nature being free. It was times like this she didn't have to hide who or what she was because there was no-one here to see her.

    Half way up she stopped by the edge of the stream. Placing her pack on the ground she sat down removing her boots and socks before placing her bare feet in the cold water. A sigh left her lips as she sat there eyes closed enjoying the peacefulness of her surroundings. When life got hard or stressful she would often come to this spot to just relax and think. It was so far off the track that no-one could find her or see her. She would spend many hours just enjoying being alone. Often so stuck in her own head she would come face to face with mountain lions, though never once have they tried to attack her. She often wondered if it was because of her demonic side or if they just never saw her a threat. Time passed by as she glanced down at her watch. Only about an hour till sunrise. She dried off her feet before putting her socks and boots back on.

    Once back on track she headed straight for the top of the mountain. Once reached she smiled. Placing her pack down she walked to the edge of the cliff sitting herself down with her feet dangling over the edge. Glancing at her watch once more she smiled " Good morning cruel world" she said to herself as the sun finally rose. The view beautiful with all its bright colours. This was the perfect way to start any horrible day. And today was one day she hated most. The anniversary of the first day she was beaten and raped. A day that shaped how she looked at the world and everyone around her.

  • Dawn broke over the city of Minneapolis. It wasn’t the peaceful morning that usually persisted in a city such as this. Down in the streets laid a body. This twisted sight was found by a small girl on her way to school. It wasn’t too long after that both the police and media swarmed on the sight. Attention was drawn to the pathologist as she talked lowly to the detective both looking over the body. 

     “As you can see detective the chest cavity has been ripped open. From the bleeding and lack of other injuries this is likely the cause of death.” The detective responded in turn. “ what could have caused this?” The pathologist looked just as confused as the detective. “ that’s the problem if we were in the woods I would say a wild animal. The force it takes to rip open a chest cavity is far above anything a human can do with out specialized medical tools. But seeing as the cavity has been filled with flowers and the hands lain over the chest. This body screams remorse, human remorse.” This body was the start of a frenzy as two others popped up across the city in the next two weeks. They had what they believed was a serial killer on their hands. The medical examiner swore that the chests had not been ripped open by tools but instead something like small hands. The bones were crushed too much to be tools. The media only expanded on these myths calling this killer the ripped of the Mississippi. The nighttime tv was filled with stories of the bodies and who they were as people. Bodies that were missing blood and ripped open, it wasn’t long until the first conspiracy theorist cited vampires.  

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Wild Child left a comment for V i r i a n
"< I promise I haven't forgotten you! This is just a quick pop in to let you know that I've just got a lot of RL stuff going on that requires my immediate attention at the moment, and that I will reply as soon as I am able to. Please forgive me. v.v >"
Apr 23
Wild Child left a comment for Wild Child
"Guys. GUYS. I am back! I know it's been a while and I apologize profusely. I've had a lot going on in my world - still have actually - but I'm slowly (very slowly) trying to work my way through replies and get other threads back up and running. Plea…"
Apr 13
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