Post by AOIDE HARPER on May 23, 2011 21:02:16 GMT 1
[/color]AOIDE LYRA HARPER
of the ANGELS. [/color]
[/center]CLASSIFIED INFORMATION[/color]
"And your name is... oh, dear." -Nuala. [/color]
»»FULL NAME:[/b] Aoide Lyra Harper
» Ay-o-day Lie-ra Har-per. Hermesiel is my true name, the name given to me when I was created as an angel in the ranks of heaven. Hermesiel, leader of the heavenly choir is my true form. Blessed with a vessel, I take on the human form of Aoide Harper to continue my mission on earth.
»»AGE:[/b] 27.
» I am truly ageless as an angel. The age of my human vessel at the time of occupancy is 27. Possessed by an angelic soul, the aging process has slowed almost to a stop and so the vessel will appear to cease to age.
»»OCCUPATION:[/b] Emergency Medical Technician/Paramedic
» Aoide truly serves the Opus Dei but in her human form, she has a job as an EMT/Paramedic, in which she discretely makes use of her healing powers to help in accidents.
»»FACTION:[/b] Opus Dei
»»SPECIES : [/b] Angel
»»ALIGNMENT:[/b] Good
»»ABILITY: [/b] Healing Song ♪
As an angel, her primary goal is in the aiding and protection of the human race against the invading legions of demons. The primary skills of this angel are in her healing ability. Activated by her gentle, soothing singing voice, she is capable of healing almost any wounds. The range of wounds she can heal varies. She can heal from near the brink of death but cannot bring anything back to life. The more severe the wounds, the greater the energy it takes too heal them. Immediate life threatening wounds consume almost all of her power and she'll need to rest for a long while afterwards where as a cut or scratch can be healed with almost no effect to Aoide what so ever. Healing power is also dependent on species and it takes more effort the more magical the creature. Humans take less energy than mythical creatures, who take less energy than healing an angel or a demon.
- - -Strength: The ability to heal others from almost any injury. Transferable healing skills across all species.
- - -Drawbacks: Healing costs energy. The faster the healing or more severe the wound can exhaust the angel leaving her vulnerable. If all her energy is used up, she will slip into unconsciousness, a coma like state until her energy replenishes.
»»ABILITY: [/b] Captivating Song ♫
Tasked primarily with protecting the human race, she has no offensive heavenly powers. She is incapable of launching her own magical attacks (though can attack with a regular human weapon or hand to hand combat). Her role in battle is much more of a defensive or healing role. While not really considered offensive, as she isn't really attacking, she is capable of attracting an attack towards her. Like the rest of her powers, activated by her enchanting singing voice, almost like a siren, she can attract the attention of others towards her for a desired amount of time. The long she attracts them, the more energy it costs her. She almost acts as a human shield and is capable of taking damage in this form to protect others. The amount of energy it takes to sustain the song is increased dramatically if she takes damage while using it so it cannot be sustained for very long while taking an attack.
- - -Strength: Ability to direct attacks towards her for a limited time, offering protection to others.
- - -Drawbacks: Costs energy and is she can sustain damage depending on who or what is attacking her.
»»ABILITY: [/b] Song of Regeneration ♪ ♫
As an angel, Aoide has heightened senses and the ability to rapidly self heal. Her powers give her vessel an immunity to human weapons. Any strike from a human weapon is almost certainly rebuffed or any wound is healed almost instantly. Her self healing ability comes into its own against supernatural foes. Magic will almost certainly cause damage, which can be healed. The more severe the wound, the more energy it takes to heal and healing wounds quickly takes more energy than healing the wounds slowly or naturally. Unlike healing other beings, this healing can happen subconsciously but can be controlled. It does not have to be activated by singing. She is by no means invincible. With healing ability, it takes a lot more damage than it would normally to cause serious injury or death but she is vulnerable to demon or angel magic which could kill her as unlike the more important archangels, she is not immortal, merely ageless and will last forever unless destroyed by powerful magic.
- - -Strength: Ability to heal herself from almost any wound. Can heal certain wounds almost instantaneously.
- - -Drawbacks: Healing costs energy. The faster the healing or more severe the wound can exhaust the angel leaving her vulnerable. If all her energy is used up, she will slip into unconsciousness, a coma like state until her energy replenishes.
THE DETAILS[/color]
"Give it up nasty, we can see you." -Hellboy. [/color]
»»EYE COLOR:[/b] Blue-grey.
»»HAIR COLOR:[/b] A blend of auburns and chocolately dark brown.
»»HEIGHT:[/b] 5'5
»»PLAY BY:[/b] Zooey Deschanel
»»APPEARANCE: [/b]
As typical morphology goes, for a human to look upon an angel will result in blindness, as their heavenly form is too overwhelming. In her true angelic form, her physical appearance is not much different but she possesses typical angel characteristics - the feathery wings and aura. The heavenly form is not sustainable on earth for long without causing major disruption to the human race and so on earth, the angel inhabits a human vessel; Aoide Harper, who represents her physical appearance without the angelic attributes.
She's a rather pretty young woman, by no means super model beautiful but pleasing on the eye. She stands at a modest 5'5 in height, weighing in with a typically average weight. By no means skinny, she has a toned, well shaped, classically beautiful hourglass figure, with healthy curves and ample breasts of around 34C in cupsize.
Her face is a versatile heart shape. The most striking feature of her face are her eyes, the are wide, doe-like that are a bright blue and grey mix in colour. The bridge of her nose is quite thin and long, ending in a pudgy bulb. Beneath it, her lips are slender and heart shaped - a rosy pink in colour. A dark chocolately brown, with light auburn running through it, her hair is typically styled in the same manner, a fluffy full block fringe and the rest hangs down just past her clavicle. It falls with a natural curl to it, like loose ringlets. Another distinctive part of Aoide is her voice. It's almost heavenly, with sweet, gentle and soothing tones that breathe warm. Her singing voice is even more captivating and enchanting.
Clothes wise, she typically wears simple dresses, usually in a solid colour with tights or long socks and a simple flat shoes. For work, she has a classic paramedic uniform.
»»PERSONALITY: [/b]
Aoide is a sweet, mild mannered woman. She tries her best to be of cheery disposition and optimistic nature most of the time and always tries to look for the best in people. She's caring and helpful and will always do her best to help any being in need, even if they are not so honourable themselves. Her loyalties are usually good-neutral, where she'll support anyone in need, whether their actions be good or bad as she can't stand to see anyone suffer.
Mild-mannered, she isn't afraid to voice her opinions but is by no means rash and loud about it, she is patient and speaks in a gentle voice to get her point across. She is warm hearted and playful, happy to joke around to try and lighten the mood and has a soft spot for children, which she'll always try to look after, amuse and entertain whenever they are around her and she has a huge passion of singing and music.
She is usually submissive in nature when it comes to authority, usually willing to accept their decision over hers. She has respects almost everyone just the same and always conducts herself in the appropriate manner around those of any higher rank than her. Loyalty is not a problem for her, once alliances have been sworn, she'll keep them forever, or until the other party should decide or act otherwise.
Built for grace and elegance, rather then speed or strength, she's not feisty and would rather submit than have to fight. Not that she can't fight, she's just not the strongest and would rather avoid confrontation as much as possible. Her role is primarily as a healer and she greatly detests inflicting pain on anyone. Aoide rarely gets angry, she tries to contain her anger at certain things as much as possible which causes her to become slightly withdrawn, where she'd go off on her own rather than stay and conflict with another being. Though sometimes, if she can't contain herself, her temper is short lived. In the end she'll always calm back down, and no doubt often apologise for her behaviour. She hates to cause trouble and to be a hassle to anyone, preferring to help others than to worry about herself.
THE BACKGROUND[/color]
"I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor." -Tumor. [/color]
»»FAMILY TREE:[/b] Being created, rather than born, she has no true family so to speak. Having been created by God, she considers him to be 'Father'. On earth, there is the human parents of her vessel whom she is incredibly close to.
True Father: God
Mortal Father: Brennan Harper. 55. Alive. Businessman.
Mortal Mother: Lynn Harper. 53. Alive. Music teacher.
Mortal Brother: Calin Harper. 29. Alive. Policeman.
Mortal Sister-In-Law: Samantha 'Sam' Harper nee 'Syfox'. 28. Alive. Receptionist.
-- Mortal Niece: Treasa Harper. 3. Alive.
»»IDOLS:[/b] Aoide greatly admires the archangels; Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. She greatly admires what they are doing as part of Opus Dei for the human race.
»»HISTORY: [/b]
To understand the life of Aiode, you must first understand the life of Hermesiel, the true angelic form of this individual. Being supernatural, heavenly beings, angels are no born as much as they are 'created' by God. Not all angels are created equal, easily observed by the hierarchy of angels within heaven, with the archangels serving Gods will almost directly while other angels are tasked with lesser responsibilities in heaven. Hermesiel is one of these angels. Not to say that she is useless, she merely doesn't have any important roles to fulfil. In heaven, her role is that of a choir leader, her captivating voice enchanting the heavens helping to give that impression of pearly gates, fluffy clouds and beautiful music that humans associate with heaven.
With ever more turmoil on earth, God had sent angels down to aid the human race with the invading legions of demons. Able to manifest their own forms, the Archangels descended first, creating the Opus Dei. As time wore on, more angels were needed to protect the human race. Hermesiel was one of the angels chosen to journey to earth to assist their plight. Rather than create a complete new human form, the lesser angels were assigned a human vessel and the transition to earth occurred over time. A baby girl was chosen as the vessel for the heavenly choir angel. For small amounts of time, the angel took control of the vessel as the child grew up. To completely possess a human at any age was risky, with severe changes of character for the individual. Small possession over time allowed the girls personality to be molded from that of the angel. As she grew, the young girl took an interest in singing, excelling in music and instrument playing - influenced by the angel. As she grew, she expressed great joy in helping people, her personality influenced by the angels personality as she possessed.
By the time the girl reached her mid 20s, full possession occurred of her body, with Hermesiel completely taking over her form, controlling the body as if it were her own on earth. As her personality and character and image had been influenced at many instances by heavenly interference as she grew, there were no drastic changes to be seen when her body was taken over entirely. With a career already established as a paramedic, this allowed the angel, now Aoide Harper instead of Hermesiel, to straight away concentrate her efforts on earth into helping and protecting the human race as a member of the Opus Dei.
THE PLAYER[/color]
"I can't smile without you...." -Abe & Hellboy. [/color]
»»YOUR NAME:[/b] Bones
»»GENDER:[/b] Female
»»AGE:[/b] 20
»»TITLE:[/b] I wanna heal, I wanna feel
»»POST SAMPLE:[/b] This is from a Naruto roleplay I used to be part of. It's kinda old so if you want me to type something fresh with this character, just let me know.
In comparison to his blonde haired, smooth skinned counterpart, Kisame had a hard time wandering the streets of Suna unnoticed. Against a backdrop of the desert, hues of yellows and orangey-browns, the blue skinned man stood out far more than Deidara ever would. Even though they wore the same, the crimson-black robes, the manbeast was more striking than the petite blonde, practically feminine in his appearance. It would have been a simple errand normally, nothing but a run into down for a package of Itachi's, whatever it was - with them being criminals and all, the odds of it being something legit was unlucky – but he was not one of question his partner. Needless to say, Kisame never obtained the desired item. That bastard Gaara. The Sharkman was barely able to set a foot silently onto Suna soil before the Kazekage was on top of him.
Kisame clutched his side tightly, panting as he move swiftly through the back eyes, nothing but a black and red blur to those who weren’t chasing him. Even for a boy, Sabaku no Gaara had made something of his father’s empire, so much that hunter-nin chased him through the streets. He winced, screwing up his face in a most unattractive manner, sharp teeth biting at his inner lips, pushing down so hard that his tongue lolled in his own blood. Samehada clung tightly to his back, purple spines tainted with a bloody red, as he turned the corner, taking the turn to wide and beating his shoulder off the wall of some strange building. He couldn’t stop now, they would catch up to him sooner than later, and then he’d be shark fin soup.
He crept himself pinned to the shadows as ebon eyes peered up at the buildings front. What a stupid place to hide! So stupid that it may just work. Dragging his hand away from his side, he pressed a bloody palm against his other, eyes closed and chakra concentrated. Water swirled swiftly from his feet, Mizu Bunshin springing to life from the wet, bursting forward into a run through the streets, leaving the real Hoshigaki to his own doings. Limbs drifted to his side once again, palm clutching the bleeding bound in his side, other hand pushing the door open gently. Drifting into the Oasis library soundly, he peered around, avoiding the eyes of anyone. People stirred at the tables, restless with the reading. Breathing quickening, his heart rate leapt as he slipped into the rows of bookshelves; doing his best of avoid any attention. His vision was blurry, the blood from his wound crept through the lining of his robe, dripping on the ground behind him, leave a solid trail to him, as he collapsed in a shadowy back row of books, hefty head knocking against the shelf, literature crashing round about his wounded state.
“Mrrr.” Kisame stirred in his position as the books rained a storm on his already pounding head. They were all in their own right, just a bunch of words scribbled down on some paper. Why were the bloody things that heavy? The shark cursed the books. What happened to be the one that fell open before his eyes? Oh the irony in the words in which the book spoke. Literature wasn’t his friend. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember the last time in which he actually sat down to read a book. Had he ever sat down to read a book? And with the current avalanche of stories falling on against his skull, it hurt too much to think. And then there was that voice drilling into his head. Kabuto? Oro’s b i t c h? What the hell was he doing here? Bloody brilliant. Just what he needed, that little weasel running about ruining things. Speaking of weasels, Itachi was going to kill him. As if this day couldn’t get any worse?
As things would have it, it was going to. That fateful ‘yeah’ at the end of every bloody sentence. The footsteps grew ever louder as Deidara moved down the hall. Kisame turned his head away from it as Deidara spied him, not wishing to see the expression upon the boy’s face though he was already familiar with how it would look. It would probably be the same if anyone saw him in that state. For someone with such a reputation as he, to been seen in such a wounded state was nothing short of embarrassing and to be seen by a fellow Akatsuki, he’d never live the experience down and to be seen by him especially. Of all people, why Deidara? He didn’t speak to the boy right away as he questioned him, refusing to turn his blue face – in both physically and emotionally speaking – to look at Deidara. He slipped his arm round the boy’s neck as he was helped back to his shaky feet, his other hand grasping his bleeding body.
As Deidara moved away, the Sharkman stumbled, falling back some, a hand jutting out using the bookshelf to support him. His eyes dropped to the floor as he caught the blonde’s backwards glare. Was this really all his fault? He had better things to do himself than be here! If anything, it was Itachi’s fault! He was here upon the request of Itachi, so how was Deidara meant to blame him for all this mess? It hadn’t been his fault that Gaara had happened to be lurking with the entire Sunagakure army. How was he meant to expect that? It was just meant to be a normal trip into Suna, as it had been on many occasions before. And anyways! It wasn’t like Kisame knew that Deidara was here. Through no fault of his own was Deidara to be wrapped up in things – it was only by chance –some twisted bit of fate- they ended up here, together, like this.
Why were all these thoughts running through his head? Why was he worried, scared of what the younger would think of him. It wasn’t like him, not in the least. Shaking it off, Kisame blamed the sand. Nasty, gritty stuff. It had wormed its way into his head. That must be the reason. In his more usual, almost childish personality, Kisame spoke, “What did I get into, nothing!” he said with a scowl, beady black eyes avoiding the yellow voids. “What got into me, I think his name was Gaara. Jealous?” he hissed in an attempt to lighten the mood with some dire form of comedy.
Raising his head, he peered over the shoulder of the younger, eyes fixed on Kabuto. Stumbling forward, he made his way behind Deidara, pressing his body against his companion’s back to keep himself upright. The smaller was right, now they did have to worry about the ANBU and the Kazekage hunting them down and there was that part of the man which was sorry for dragging the boy into this mess. But still, he didn’t have to treat him as he was treating him. They were all allowed their slip-ups, and he was sure Deidara had had his. Sasori’s constant screaming at him was enough to gather that much. Their partnership seemed to mostly consist of them yelling at each other for something or other. Itachi and he got along. And though Itachi, the infamous clan massacring Uchiha, was something to be afraid of, it was Deidara’s harshness, which terrified the Akatsuki at now. “Give him the f**king book, Kabuto” Kisame hissed from over Deidara’s shoulder. He was sorry for the mess he had got the pair of them into so far, and wasn’t going to let Kabuto make it any worse.
Kisame clutched his side tightly, panting as he move swiftly through the back eyes, nothing but a black and red blur to those who weren’t chasing him. Even for a boy, Sabaku no Gaara had made something of his father’s empire, so much that hunter-nin chased him through the streets. He winced, screwing up his face in a most unattractive manner, sharp teeth biting at his inner lips, pushing down so hard that his tongue lolled in his own blood. Samehada clung tightly to his back, purple spines tainted with a bloody red, as he turned the corner, taking the turn to wide and beating his shoulder off the wall of some strange building. He couldn’t stop now, they would catch up to him sooner than later, and then he’d be shark fin soup.
He crept himself pinned to the shadows as ebon eyes peered up at the buildings front. What a stupid place to hide! So stupid that it may just work. Dragging his hand away from his side, he pressed a bloody palm against his other, eyes closed and chakra concentrated. Water swirled swiftly from his feet, Mizu Bunshin springing to life from the wet, bursting forward into a run through the streets, leaving the real Hoshigaki to his own doings. Limbs drifted to his side once again, palm clutching the bleeding bound in his side, other hand pushing the door open gently. Drifting into the Oasis library soundly, he peered around, avoiding the eyes of anyone. People stirred at the tables, restless with the reading. Breathing quickening, his heart rate leapt as he slipped into the rows of bookshelves; doing his best of avoid any attention. His vision was blurry, the blood from his wound crept through the lining of his robe, dripping on the ground behind him, leave a solid trail to him, as he collapsed in a shadowy back row of books, hefty head knocking against the shelf, literature crashing round about his wounded state.
“Mrrr.” Kisame stirred in his position as the books rained a storm on his already pounding head. They were all in their own right, just a bunch of words scribbled down on some paper. Why were the bloody things that heavy? The shark cursed the books. What happened to be the one that fell open before his eyes? Oh the irony in the words in which the book spoke. Literature wasn’t his friend. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember the last time in which he actually sat down to read a book. Had he ever sat down to read a book? And with the current avalanche of stories falling on against his skull, it hurt too much to think. And then there was that voice drilling into his head. Kabuto? Oro’s b i t c h? What the hell was he doing here? Bloody brilliant. Just what he needed, that little weasel running about ruining things. Speaking of weasels, Itachi was going to kill him. As if this day couldn’t get any worse?
As things would have it, it was going to. That fateful ‘yeah’ at the end of every bloody sentence. The footsteps grew ever louder as Deidara moved down the hall. Kisame turned his head away from it as Deidara spied him, not wishing to see the expression upon the boy’s face though he was already familiar with how it would look. It would probably be the same if anyone saw him in that state. For someone with such a reputation as he, to been seen in such a wounded state was nothing short of embarrassing and to be seen by a fellow Akatsuki, he’d never live the experience down and to be seen by him especially. Of all people, why Deidara? He didn’t speak to the boy right away as he questioned him, refusing to turn his blue face – in both physically and emotionally speaking – to look at Deidara. He slipped his arm round the boy’s neck as he was helped back to his shaky feet, his other hand grasping his bleeding body.
As Deidara moved away, the Sharkman stumbled, falling back some, a hand jutting out using the bookshelf to support him. His eyes dropped to the floor as he caught the blonde’s backwards glare. Was this really all his fault? He had better things to do himself than be here! If anything, it was Itachi’s fault! He was here upon the request of Itachi, so how was Deidara meant to blame him for all this mess? It hadn’t been his fault that Gaara had happened to be lurking with the entire Sunagakure army. How was he meant to expect that? It was just meant to be a normal trip into Suna, as it had been on many occasions before. And anyways! It wasn’t like Kisame knew that Deidara was here. Through no fault of his own was Deidara to be wrapped up in things – it was only by chance –some twisted bit of fate- they ended up here, together, like this.
Why were all these thoughts running through his head? Why was he worried, scared of what the younger would think of him. It wasn’t like him, not in the least. Shaking it off, Kisame blamed the sand. Nasty, gritty stuff. It had wormed its way into his head. That must be the reason. In his more usual, almost childish personality, Kisame spoke, “What did I get into, nothing!” he said with a scowl, beady black eyes avoiding the yellow voids. “What got into me, I think his name was Gaara. Jealous?” he hissed in an attempt to lighten the mood with some dire form of comedy.
Raising his head, he peered over the shoulder of the younger, eyes fixed on Kabuto. Stumbling forward, he made his way behind Deidara, pressing his body against his companion’s back to keep himself upright. The smaller was right, now they did have to worry about the ANBU and the Kazekage hunting them down and there was that part of the man which was sorry for dragging the boy into this mess. But still, he didn’t have to treat him as he was treating him. They were all allowed their slip-ups, and he was sure Deidara had had his. Sasori’s constant screaming at him was enough to gather that much. Their partnership seemed to mostly consist of them yelling at each other for something or other. Itachi and he got along. And though Itachi, the infamous clan massacring Uchiha, was something to be afraid of, it was Deidara’s harshness, which terrified the Akatsuki at now. “Give him the f**king book, Kabuto” Kisame hissed from over Deidara’s shoulder. He was sorry for the mess he had got the pair of them into so far, and wasn’t going to let Kabuto make it any worse.
