Carmyne, Seriha

Old app, added shikai stuff since it came to pass since then.


OOC Information

Name/Alias/Nickname :
Cory

Age : ( Required)
24

Screen Name : (lowercase please)
swordsandscience / neosekundes

Time Zone :
Eastern

Role-playing experience :
Started way back when I was 13 just kinda freeloadin' around the Red Dragon Inns on AOL. Eventually was snagged up for a small medieval fantasy group called WyndsoR where I played a couple characters by the name of Arek and Arus Maxim. Few offshoots stemmed from that, resulting in the creation of my Dareth Ries character, but eventually I moved onto the MUSH format for RP. I spent a number of years on a Wing Commander MUSH, eventually becoming a coder and administrator, doing things from organizing SLs to fixing HSpace if someone broke it. When that game close, I wound up migrating to a Final Fantasy MUSH where I just mucked about until I was approached by someone who know of my administration on RH and asked if I could help tidy up the place a bit. I'd like to say that went smoothly, but after a conflict with a retired admin that thought he'd one day change the passwords of all staff, the game was splintered into camps that either took his side or my own since I was actually hosting the servers at the time. The game kinda hobbled on for a bit, but I eventually shut it down because were more interested in finding reasons to bicker than to RP. Was around this time I started into playing FFXI more, so RP's been sparse for the past 3 or so years.

Average amount of time online per day:
3-8 hours, but not always on AOL.

Have you ever Rped Bleach before? (Describe briefly) :
Nope.

Have you been in any other Bleach role-playing groups? (List them):
Nope.

What is Yamada Hantarou's Ban Kai ? :
To my knowledge, he doesn't have one. Though his zanpaktou's initial release is a scalpel that feeds off the pain and anguish of someone to a point before it releases that energy as an attack.

Are you applying for CC (Canon Character) or OC (Original Character)?:
OC

( If you are applying for a canon character, please see Lkkaku Madarame and hainekou. )
What is your character? (Shinigami, Quincy, Human, Arrancar, Hollow, Vizard):
Vizard


In Character
Family Name :
Carmyne

First Name :
Seriha

Age :
17

Height : ( in feet/ft. )
5'11"

Weight : ( in pounds/lbs. )
147 lbs

Division [Shinigami] :
N/A

Type [Arrancar/Hollow] :
N/A

Personality (Basic description) :
Despite her good nature, cynicism often makes her seem unapproachable or even harsh. Some would call her shy, but in truth she's rather forward in matters that take her interest and often devotes herself to a task until it's seen to completion. Loyal to friends and fierce to enemies, she's been known to pick fights she couldn't win. Overall, vanity rarely concerns her she has no problems getting dirty, but sometimes she gets self-conscious about her chest.

Physical Appearance :
At 5'11", not only was Seriha taller than most girls her age in America, but in Japan she may as well be considered a giant. Shoulder-length black hair frames her face, curled slightly inward as it hangs. She makes no attempt to hide behind make-up, and while her face thusly lacks the niceties of such treatment, her skin is otherwise smooth and acceptable for viewing. Emerald green eyes sit above her questionable stern cheekbones, chin delicately rounded beneath her plain pink lips. The rest of her frame could be expected to match one of her size and brash tendencies. By no means a waif, should she tense some part of her body, some semblance of muscle would present itself. Perhaps the only thing that doesn't make sense about her body would be the fact her breasts are on the large side for an athletically inclined young woman.

History/ Biography :
Born and raised in the States, Seriha was introduced to hardship and loss at a rather young age. Having never known her father, her mother worked multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Tragedy struck one evening when she was eight years old when a mugging attempt turned fatal and her mother was left dead at the scene. Now orphaned and without any known family, she wound up being adopted by one of her mother's employers. Up until this point, she had only met the guy a few times, but he ran a jazz bar where her mother waited tables. The young Carmyne spent many evenings sitting at the top of the apartment steps the bar resided beneath, just absorbing the lilting tunes and what snippets of conversation she could discern. Life seemed so full of sadness, hearing of guys that lost their jobs, women who broke up with their boyfriends, and then her own reminders of the fact her father abandoned her before she was even born and that her mother will never be baking her another batch of brownies that she so loved. Time and again she resolved to never bring others sadness after sitting at the top of those old steps, but somewhere along the way she lost the ability to smile at will, with genuine sincerity and joy.

The rest of her childhood was rather uneventful. With the aforementioned resolution, sometimes she would come home with skinned knees or scraped elbows after ripping into a bully. Despite risking herself like this for others, nobody really took a shine to her, nor did they hate her. She was just there, another student, classmate, learning and living like the rest of the lot with no real expectations of success or fear of failure. By the time she was fourteen, her adopted father finally let her come downstairs at night, but not without making sure she knew she was never to sip the alcohol or smoke with the customers, no, to never smoke at all. It was weird finally putting faces to the names of some of the regulars, and while she knew most of the staff, she never really got to hang out with them since they often came in while she was doing homework and the bar opened soon after she would've been done. During her nights, she wound up hanging out with the bouncers a lot, taking notes on how they discern troublemakers and try to step in before a scene can even be made. Some jokingly taught her how to make a proper fist, and even instruct her a bit on self-defense, but mostly they passed it off as the musings of a bored girl in a place she didn't belong.

Once her senior year rolled around, Seriha was selected as an exchange student to travel abroad to Japan to finish her last year of schooling. This came as a shock to her since she didn't really take her Japanese studies seriously, but she accepted the offer since she felt like she really had nothing to lose by going away for a while. Not long after arriving in Karakura Town, she wound up caught in the crossfire of a Hollow attack and died as the bus she was in toppled over repeatedly. Though, it would appear that was not the end of her tale.

She came to laying just outside the wreckage, a throbbing headache suggesting she must have hit her head in the accident. Unfortunately, it didn't take her long to look down and realize that her physical form was no longer suitable for habitation and that her headache could easily be explained by the thick pool of blood beneath her skull. Terrified, she went to run, screaming something about all of this being a dream and that it wasn't real. With her body damaged, the chain linking her spirit to it broke rather effortlessly, and for days she moped around the city, ignored by anyone and everyone who apparently couldn't see her. Staring up at the moon one clear evening, she couldn't help but cry. Did this happen to her mother? Will she never see the Club again? Was all of this just some kind of cruel joke played out by whatever gods reigned over Fate? None of the answers that came to her satisfied her. Anger, hatred, resentment... they built and welled within, the tears of lost woman giving way to the anguished coming of a Hollow's mask.

It hurt so much. Was this Hell? Flailing, stumbling about the grass, screaming and clawing at her own face, she didn't want to accept this. Those dark whispers, encouraging her to give in, to feed upon the souls lost like her own. No, no, no. She wasn't going to start eating people! Whatever those voices were, those dark desires... they went against her resolve, that promise she made herself so long ago to keep sadness and pain from others even if it wasn't within her power. It hurt so much, peeling the mask that formed from her face. Though when she did, the voices stopped and she fell to her knees panting heavily. Looking down to the broken mask before her, she decided. She would save others from those voices, either giving into them or becoming their victim.

And while she won that battle with the Hollow within, it still whispers to her, goading her in moments of weakness. As time went on, she observed various encounters between Hollow and Shinigami, piecing together her newfound existence. At times she pondered approaching one of the black-robed sword bearers, but something deep down told her not to. She confused that voice for her own, that voice of the Hollow that wrests within, hoping to one day win over her spiritual body.

Zanpaktou-to [Shinigami, Arrancar] (Include possible shikai to be obtained) :
Saidosha: Very large and heavy buster sword type weapon in which Seriha can manipulate spiritual energy it cleaves in the air to create an almost whirlwind-like secondary attack that can be instantaneous or delayed by a few seconds. The impact itself almost feels as though the physical portion of the sword struck multiple times.

Character image : ( if any )
http://home.comcast.net/~clg2001/Art/SaidoshaColor.gif

Sample Post : ( any situation involving the character you are APPLYING with. )
It was the first time she felt hungry since the accident, but that tossing and turning in Seriha's stomach felt like so much more than the girl craving a hamburger. Hands locked against the short grass, sweat trickled from her brow as she looked to down to the ivory mask that stared back at her with menacingly empty eyes. "There's no way in hell that's me," she rasped, a drop of salty sweat dripping from her nose and splattering upon the mask's surface. To emphasize her point, her right hand balled into a determined fist before arcing toward her target at a rapid velocity. "Shit!" came a sudden exclamation of pain, the bone-like texture of the mask offering no give to her assailing fist and instead laughed back at her by proxy through the stinging pulses of bruised, throbbing knuckles.

"You... you..." she grumped, left hand comforting the right before suddenly picking up the mask. Storming over to the edge waterway, she lobbed it fiercely into the shallow water. A modest splash greeted her as she was now rid of the mask, but elation gave way to dismay as it quickly floated back to the surface and eerily back toward the water's edge as if some magnetic pull had been established between them. "Don't look at me like that!" she commanded of the mask, as if it would answer in her desperation. Arms folded beneath her breasts, she paced back and forth while green eyes never looked away from the mask. "...tch!" she conceded, skulking down to the water where she picked up the mask and shook it off. "Guess I can't leave you around for someone else to find," she affirmed, tucking it beneath her arm for the time being so she doesn't have to look at it while she walked the dark streets, collecting her thoughts.