Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Apr 25, 2012 17:10:25 GMT -5
Aerith Gainsborough
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I’m losing sight
Don’t count on me
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{{Appearance}} Keep this short and sweet. This is really only for qualities that aren’t shown in the picture.
{{History}} Keep this short and sweet we don’t’ want to read every detail about your character, leave some for development. A bare outline would be appreciated.
Please also remember that it is unlikely that your character was born on Traverse Town! Traverse Town is a relatively new world, born only shortly after the end of BBS. For use in this RP the world has only been around for 13 years. Keep that in mind!
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I chase the sun
It chases after me
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- At least five good traits in list format
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- At least five bad traits in list format
- At least four likes in list format
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- At least four likes in list format
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You know my name
You know my face
[/i][/size]{{Abilities }}[/b]
- cure (- 75) - a low level healing spell that takes care of minor injuries (e.g. small cuts and bruises)
- aero (- 75) - a low level defensive spell that creates a barrier of high speed winds around the user; it deflects objects and softens physical attacks
- thunder (- 75) - a low level lightning attack that slightly stuns and burns an opponent
- blizzard (- 75) - a low level ice spell that causes frost bite where it hits an opponent; it can also create small ice slicks on the ground
- fire (- 75) - a low level fire spell that causes first degree burns on a target; it can also be used to start fires
- reflect (- 75) - a defensive spell that, when timed correctly with an opponent's attack, can rebound the force of the attack against the attacker
Others:
- n/a
{{Weapons }} quarter staff - a simple staff used mostly as a channel for her magic, secondly as a defensive tool. it has no special properties.
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You’d know my heart
If you knew my place
[/i][/size]{{Color Claim }} This is your character’s dialogue color, make sure it isn’t taken already
{{OoC Name}} jazz
{{Sample Post }}Having had an elixir-- though getting it by the most awkward of means-- Aerith found that she didn't need to spend the next few weeks in bed. Her pure appreciation for being allowed out of the bed was immeasurable, a sense of gratitude for the ability to walk transcending the levels of any emotion she'd felt before. Not used to be being mortally wounded-- and living-- Aerith decided that it was something she'd rather not experience again, especially if the supplies needed to reverse the nasty side effects of bleeding profusely weren't immediately on hand.
As it were, she had been in luck, so for every day after her injuries were sustained, Aerith made it her goal to get out and do things, using every day she would've spent in bed doing something incredibly more worthwhile. The various tasks were mismatched and varying in importance, but each aiding someone in a way that they needed best.
Sometimes, she'd scour the various streets of Hollow Bastion for those that needed to be healed from Heartless attacks. Other times, she'd escort people who needed assistance, finding the average run-of-the-mill Heartless easy to char under the weight of her magic. Occasionally, she'd run errands or offer conversation if nothing else was needed. And, of course, her Restoration duties-- though, she had a creeping suspicion they were afraid to push her despite each cut being nothing more than a memory, faint scars lining her body.
With a basket slung over her arm, the young woman found herself in need of groceries, for herself and the latest old lady she'd come across. Preferring that she venture out in the shopping district-- what if that Heartless was still lurking about?-- Aerith insisted upon being allowed to do the shopping for both and ushered the woman back into her house with a smile and assurance that she'd grab everything. Most of it was already tucked tightly within, making the basket heavy against the crook of her arm, imprinting its pattern into her skin and trapping the loose strands of her hair.
The wind continued to blow it into her face, and she continued to blow it back out. A new hair tie was in order, she had decided some time ago, but the idea of replacing her old, pink ribbon left a sharp pang in her chest. It was a pretty day, though, even if the weather offered minor inconveniences. The sun beat down against her head and lit the corners of Hollow Bastion until it was positively glowing gold. For a few moments in the day, the world looked more than a broken, incomplete place, ravaged by evil and only slowly being rebuilt. How nice it would be, she thought, to see the streets lined with trees and flowers; there were so few green patches that it made her heart sad.
In fact, the only one she could properly find was a small one lingering near the side of a bakery. Needing bread, Aerith decided that once exiting the shop front, she'd go around the side and ascertain that it had just the right soil for a small garden-- oh, how she missed the flowers of her church. No world could be properly considered home without the scent of flowers wafting from sprawling sea of blossoms. Nose clogged with the wafting aroma of baked goods, both bland and sweet, she'd slowly paid for the last of what she needed, spending the next few moments asking about the baker's family and other various pleasantries she made sure to address. The ending was quick. A quick laugh. A quick wave. A quick exit, and a fast turn around the corner.
Setting the basket near the lip of the alley, the young woman brushed off her dress, the blue fabric creasing and uncreasing under the pressure of her fingers. It was odd, she decided, to not be in pink. While matching the bright, vibrant powdery blue of the sky was nice, it also felt wrong. So many years in the same color-- everything in her life was apparently shifting on its head, though, she supposed, a lack of growth was a very bad sign. Still, there were some things that wouldn't change, and her desire to plant was mounting again, refusing to be stalled by any designs of the cosmos or impediments...
Except maybe a blood bathed, silver haired figure reclining against a wall very near her current position. A squeak. A squeak of protest passed her lips before both hands flew to halt further sounds of confusion. For a moment, a brief moment, she assumed the worst, that Sephiroth had just murdered masses of innocents in cold blood and was currently taking a "well-earned" nap before going off to finish the rest of an insane campaign, properly destroying every living, breathing thing in Hollow Bastion and undoing all the hard work the Restoration Committee put into rebuilding it. How rude.
Her eyes slid from the blood caked strands, to the blood smeared clothes, finally, to the hand resting against Sephiroth's chest, and she came to the conclusion, with an odd weight in her stomach, that it was his blood staining the grass and the wall and the small, quaint part of Hollow Bastion she'd come to in order to revel in the good of the world. Mouth dry, the young woman licked her lips beneath her hands and averted her eyes as she tried to decide what could possibly have happened to injure someone so very, very strong. Perhaps... she hesitated, perhaps Cloud had finally won, and she had stumbled upon the aftermath, a dying One-Winged Angel finally slipping back to the Lifestream.
If that were true... A strikingly horrible thought flashed across her mind like lightning, there and then gone, leaving the echos to resonate within her ears. It was a thought unlike her. Even if the circumstances pointed to that being the best option for Cloud-- for anyone else Sephiroth might slay in his life-- the idea of just walking away as if she'd seen nothing or even attacking while he stood there bleeding was distasteful and disgusting, the type of idea she refused to entertain no matter the situation.
Parting her lips to take a faint breath, Aerith decided that she had to do it. Even at the expense of Cloud's freedom from the darkness that plagued him, even at the expense of innocent lives... even at the expense of her own life, the young woman in the blue dress with hair flying into her face knew that she couldn't walk away from someone injured in good faith. Pooling a Curaga into the pads of her fingertips, she took very slow steps toward the man, reaching her hand out slowly for the one upon his chest in hopes that he wouldn't stir before she had a chance to finish her new-found task.
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