He was once a boy. Well, he was a full grown man of nearly 18 but a still a boy nonetheless. A war raged on in Europe but he was still too young to enlist. Not that he had wanted to. All he cared about were his dreams, roaming the English countryside and lying on his back in the grass to watch the butterflies and the birds in the sky. But his birthday approached, and with it, the front lines.
The night before his birthday was a full moon. His bedroom was bright and he couldn’t sleep. Though, he thought he was dreaming when his closet door opened on its own volition. A cold breeze swirled about the room and disturbed the curtains. A woman stepped out from behind the door. She was tall and pale as the moon, dressed in a white fur coat and a crown of diamonds. She was the most beautiful thing the boy had ever seen. Continue reading Less’ life from his perspective→
The Lord of the Crossroads stole me from the Ferals I called friends and family. He thought I was one of them, and how he raged when he learned I was merely a carrier of the virus that made them. Days blended into weeks, until I lost track of time in the dark forest where he held me. Tortured me in an attempt to make the virus change me, and when that didn’t work, he tried to figure out how to use me to create his own Ferals. He wanted to create a weapon, and he did.
Honoré is slender, taller than average and has grown into the beautiful woman she was destined to be. Her strawberry blonde hair hangs like a thick, wavy veil to just past her shoulders. Her body is now lean, with hardly a spare ounce of fat – save for those needed for her womanly curves. Her hazel eyes are rimmed with long, lush eyelashes, and her skin fair, with the hint of a tan. On her back she has scars, evidence of the near fatal attack she suffered the night of her 18th birthday.
I escaped my Sidhe Lord’s service after years of being used to capture young men and women for him. It took every ounce of courage I had, and desperation such that I cared not if I died in my attempt to escape, but I managed to flee through the very Shadow Gate I had used to lure the unsuspecting mortals to their doom.
For months after, I lurked in a pond at a park in Mythic City, scraping by on food provided by shelters and pantries and spending my nights in the soothing waters of my pond. Even better, I had discovered a Shadow Gate at the bottom of my pond, accessible only when certain stones were placed in the correct positions. I had my escape from to Faerie there, my own personal corner of Faerie. Continue reading Mira’s Life from Her Perspective→
Less appears to mortals as a pale man in smoke-coloured glasses dressed in a shabby grey suit that is slightly out of date.
He appears to supernatural senses as a man with no eyes or mouth. His skin is somewhat shiny and takes on a slight shade of the dominant colour of his surroundings. The lack of eyes and mouth on his face is more than made up for many eyes and mouths dotting the rest of his body. They are all different and shift and express themselves more or less of their own volition. He is generally sharply dressed in a well-cut suit and hat, though the style of the suit is generally from a distant decade or century (when men knew how to dress).
In her mortal form, Mira has dark brown hair and dark eyes. Her mask grants her healthy, if pale skin tone. Mira used to dress in whatever she could find or what people gave her, given her lack of steady income. However, since her association with Rey Lafitte, she’s changed her lifestyle and might be found wearing anything from casual to formal wear. All her clothes are new.
Her hair has been cut short in an asymmetrical style, similar to the one Qora has in Tron: Legacy.
She is 22, 5’4”, 115 lbs, born July 7th. She is originally half Japanese, half American.
