the madhouse; Nunia's Kids

Subject: the madhouse; Nunia's Kids Fri Jul 31, 2009 10:30 pm

Something highly organized and spiffy will go here eventually. Until then, enjoy the show!

Subject: Re: the madhouse; Nunia's Kids Fri Jul 31, 2009 10:31 pm

BABY DOLL I RECOGNIZE, YOU'RE A HIDEOUS THING INSIDEI try to stay on top of you to hold your body down. Your shaking seems to hinder every grasp that I have found. Moving every inch around me to defuse your private bomb, I stretch myself surrounding, and protecting you from harm. I use a wallet for your mouth, so when you bite you will not bleed. I drilled a wire through my cheek and let it down and out my sleeve. And now you're pulling out the best of me, yeah which never ever comes. This wires all thats left of me and its hooked within my gums, within my gums. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. Its proof to show that I bleed for this and I'd cut myself the sham to get to know this masochist who has stolen my first name. Pretending he's a teacher holding all my weight at ease; yet the teacher seems to split in two, destroying both his knees. Now crawling I position myself below your broken wings. I lift your feathered left arm where you hide your heart from me. I never noticed it was swollen with the touch of brutal pain; I never knew a heart could live inside the rust from all your rain, all your rain. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I didn’t think to bring a wash cloth and rub away the dirt. Myself and I we share this barely beating heart of hurt. And when the hurt comes there’s an argument, a fight to save a smile; a small attack on human tears to dry them for a while. A dream we all should count on; yeah, a vision I believe. Where confidence is found attached to wires on our sleeve. Where loneliness is history, told to pack his shit and leave; where guidance is a fortune told to help in time of need. And were crying isn't secret; it's the art of how we grieve. And lessons are the key to every goal I will achieve, I will achieve. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I try to stay on top of you to hold your body down. Your shaking seems to hinder every grasp that I have found. Moving every inch around me to defuse your private bomb, I stretch myself surrounding, and protecting you from harm. I use a wallet for your mouth, so when you bite you will not bleed. I drilled a wire through my cheek and let it down and out my sleeve. And now you're pulling out the best of me, yeah which never ever comes. This wires all thats left of me and its hooked within my gums, within my gums. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. Its proof to show that I bleed for this and I'd cut myself the sham to get to know this masochist who has stolen my first name. Pretending he's a teacher holding all my weight at ease; yet the teacher seems to split in two, destroying both his knees. Now crawling I position myself below your broken wings. I lift your feathered left arm where you hide your heart from me. I never noticed it was swollen with the touch of brutal pain; I never knew a heart could live inside the rust from all your rain, all your rain. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I didn’t think to bring a wash cloth and rub away the dirt. Myself and I we share this barely beating heart of hurt. And when the hurt comes there’s an argument, a fight to save a smile; a small attack on human tears to dry them for a while. A dream we all should count on; yeah, a vision I believe. Where confidence is found attached to wires on our sleeve. Where loneliness is history, told to pack his shit and leave; where guidance is a fortune told to help in time of need. And were crying isn't secret; it's the art of how we grieve. And lessons are the key to every goal I will achieve, I will achieve. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it.

"speech"

Subject: Re: the madhouse; Nunia's Kids Fri Jul 31, 2009 10:33 pm

GIVE ME YOUR SOUL
AND I'LL GIVE YOU PEACE

Formal Curse: Beautiful Disaster
Means: A disaster that is beautiful
Title[s]: Fallen High Heiress of Forgotten Synical; Betess of Noire Enfer the King; Advisor of Brutal Nightshade; Queen of Saloria Sorune, self-proclaimed Rogue Queen of Fire and Ice
Alias: To most family and friends, she merely goes by Havoc. Lately, however, she has taken to the name Ereshkigal, a name she used back in the Forgotten Synical as a spy.
Decent: The strongest line of blood that runs in her veins is of the British Columbian line, though she's mutted by several North American breeds with rumors of some Dire.
Age: Around 8 years, she is beginning to lose count.
Gender: Demoness
Persona: Being revised
Heart: Wicked
Motto: --

Peltage Hue: Obsidian overall. Tinted at the shoulders, ears, spine and forehead with silver and ash. Muzzle is grey from age.
Occualr Hue: Silver, shaded very lightly along the outer edges of the iris with blue.
Stands: 32''; rather average, but on the larger side for a female.
Weighs: Between 125-135 lbs. on average
Form: Legs are long, of average thickness, but strong and powered by muscular hindquarters and shoulders. Her chest is deep and wide, neck quite average and carania of equal proportions to the rest of her body. Ears are cupped, but pointed slightly. Back is a little longer then average, ending in a thickly bushed tassel that comes down about midway past her hips. Jaws are a little long, and due to her age the teeth that lie within them are slightly dulled and tinged with yellow. Paws are large enough, the pads are worn but the talons are still quite sharp. Fur is thick, and when in health has a nice silver sheen to it. It is thicker around her neck and hackles are long enough to rest on the sides of her shoulders. In the summer it tends to be slightly lighter, and the silver that shades her coat is lighted considerably to the point of extension of the lines. In winter, the darker color returns, but never looks quite the same as the year before.
Physical Distortions: A noticeable scar distorts the fur on her left shoulder, a marking of the Forgotten Synical that is given to the females after living past training. [Males wear the scar on their right shoulder] Another is right beneath her chin, two sets of half-circle of puncture wounds and long lines of healed skin. These were given to her on different occasions. The first set comes from a female that once challenged her authority while she was Noire Enfer's Betess. The second set was given to her by her brother, shortly after she learned the truth of Jetevil's murder. Many other minor scars run throughout her body but most are hidden when she is in good health, and the fur covers them. Her right side is completely marred by an attack from her daughter Persephone that ended her old life. The injures include: a long scar that runs the length of her back; a torn left ear; a swelling that often occurs in her hip that suggests shattered bone that irritates the muscle though she gives little thought to the pain; a slight deformity that is only noticeable when one looks at her from right behind or right in front. Her right-side ribs are not quite as outward as the left, and so might make her look bigger on one sice then the other. The sight in her right eye is starting to fade away as well.

Sire: Treiantsi; Fallen King of Forgotten Synical[killed by Havoc]
Dame: Shaurya; Fallen Queen of Forgotten Synical[killed by Treiantsi]
Brothers: Treiantsi II/Tsian
Sisters: Tainted Beauty, Twisted Sanity[Killed by Havoc]
Interest: No male has caught her eye lately, and it is likely none will for quite some time.
Courted By: As of late, no brujo has dared to ask her for a courtship.
Partner: None, currently.
Past Partners: Jetevil(Killed by Tsian), Noire Enfer(Dead; This relationship was never taken seriously)
Children: Aneirin[Male;Dead], Devalesisi[Male;Dead](both killed by Persephone), Persephone[Female; whereabouts unknown]-Sired by Jetevil
Annette Veneficus Atra[Female], Xhythia Emarii[Female], Sarinith Arethi[Male] Desidius[Male], -Sired by Noire Enfer
Grandchildren: From Persephone; Dahlia, Valerie, and Luxferre
Other Family:Minx & Jinx, nieces; Lysander & Laike, nephews
Challengers: There are many who would like her head as a trophy, but she only cares of two. Persephone, her daughter; Floire, a vile woman Treiantsi took into his bed. Both females wish Havoc dead, and they are the only two who have come close to realizing that dream.
Minions: Melusina, Bloodeye, Zaiaku, Minx, Lysander, Laike, others to come
Rank: Rogue Queen

Life Story: Eventually, it will be written start to finish.
Place of Birth: Forgotten Synical

Subject: Re: the madhouse; Nunia's Kids Thu Sep 03, 2009 3:30 pm

lost my wings, but found my way

make it worth my while to stay

stats; c o m i n g

Subject: Re: the madhouse; Nunia's Kids Thu Sep 03, 2009 4:25 pm

. I try to stay on top of you to hold your body down. Your shaking seems to hinder every grasp that I have found. Moving every inch around me to defuse your private bomb, I stretch myself surrounding, and protecting you from harm. I use a wallet for your mouth, so when you bite you will not bleed. I drilled a wire through my cheek and let it down and out my sleeve. And now you're pulling out the best of me, yeah which never ever comes. This wires all thats left of me and its hooked within my gums, within my gums. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. Its proof to show that I bleed for this and I'd cut myself the sham to get to know this masochist who has stolen my first name. Pretending he's a teacher holding all my weight at ease; yet the teacher seems to split in two, destroying both his knees. Now crawling I position myself below your broken wings. I lift your feathered left arm where you hide your heart from me. I never noticed it was swollen with the touch of brutal pain; I never knew a heart could live inside the rust from all your rain, all your rain. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I didn’t think to bring a wash cloth and rub away the dirt. Myself and I we share this barely beating heart of hurt. And when the hurt comes there’s an argument, a fight to save a smile; a small attack on human tears to dry them for a while. A dream we all should count on; yeah, a vision I believe. Where confidence is found attached to wires on our sleeve. Where loneliness is history, told to pack his shit and leave; where guidance is a fortune told to help in time of need. And were crying isn't secret; it's the art of how we grieve. And lessons are the key to every goal I will achieve, I will achieve. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I try to stay on top of you to hold your body down. Your shaking seems to hinder every grasp that I have found. Moving every inch around me to defuse your private bomb, I stretch myself surrounding, and protecting you from harm. I use a wallet for your mouth, so when you bite you will not bleed. I drilled a wire through my cheek and let it down and out my sleeve. And now you're pulling out the best of me, yeah which never ever comes. This wires all thats left of me and its hooked within my gums, within my gums. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. Its proof to show that I bleed for this and I'd cut myself the sham to get to know this masochist who has stolen my first name. Pretending he's a teacher holding all my weight at ease; yet the teacher seems to split in two, destroying both his knees. Now crawling I position myself below your broken wings. I lift your feathered left arm where you hide your heart from me. I never noticed it was swollen with the touch of brutal pain; I never knew a heart could live inside the rust from all your rain, all your rain. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it. I didn’t think to bring a wash cloth and rub away the dirt. Myself and I we share this barely beating heart of hurt. And when the hurt comes there’s an argument, a fight to save a smile; a small attack on human tears to dry them for a while. A dream we all should count on; yeah, a vision I believe. Where confidence is found attached to wires on our sleeve. Where loneliness is history, told to pack his shit and leave; where guidance is a fortune told to help in time of need. And were crying isn't secret; it's the art of how we grieve. And lessons are the key to every goal I will achieve, I will achieve. So drill it, so drill it so hard; feel it.