AYRES, spyder valencia. {WIP}

[grimm]

SPYDER VALENCIA AYRES !?
don't fret precious i'm here, step away from the window.

FULL NAME Spyder Valencia Ayres.
NICKNAMES Spy.
AGE 23.
GENDER Female.
BIRTHDAY November 6^th, 1988.
SPECIES Werewolf.
ALLIANCE Dark.
THEME SONG Counting Bodies Like Sheep - A Perfect Circle.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual.

PLAY-BY Jessica Alba.
EYES Almond shaped, hazel color.
HAIR Long, golden-brown.
BODY TYPE Very feminine, slim.
HEIGHT 5' 6".
WEIGHT 112 lbs.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES None.
STYLE Dark, seductive, feminine.

LIKES At least 10.

• Alcohol.
  
• Full moons.
  
• Challenges.
  
• Meat.
  
• Men.
  
• Gas masks.
  
• Knives.
  
• Hunting.
  
• Sex.
  
• Smoking.
  
• Silver. (more of a forbidden love)
  
• Herself.
  
• Death.
  

DISLIKES At least 10.

• Being commanded.
  
• Humans.
  
• Stupidity.
  
• Headaches.
  
• Religion.
  
• Extreme weather.
  
• Watching TV.
  
• Vampires.
  
• Being jealous.
  
• Complaining.
  

STRENGTHS At least 4.

• Hunting.
  
• Her flexibility.
  
• Seducing.
  
• Running.
  

WEAKNESSES At least 4.

• Men.
  
• The full moon.
  
• Silver.
  
• Inticing aromas.
  

HABITS At least 3.

• Jealousy. It's an animal instinct that tends to overwhelm her at times. Whether it's with a man she's found interest with, or a girl that wears a certain thing better than she does, envy can get te better of her.
  
• Waking up early. Spyder has a sort of 'internal alarm clock'. It's a daily habit that has her wake up every morning at the same time. 4:30.
  
• Destroying. Only if she's in a bad mood, though. Spyder tends to lose her cool, and trash whatever place or room she's currently in. While technically it isn't a true habit, it doesn't change the fact that this has been with Spyder her entire life.
  

FEARS At least 3.

• Herself.
  
• That her love for silver will soon overcome her.
  
• That if the silver doesn't kill her, something else will.
  

DESIRES At least 1.

• To be with the man of her dreams. No, not marry him. Be with him. Make him hers. Her little play toy to bend and twist to her heart's desire.
  

SECRETS At least 1.

• Her only secret is that what she fears the most in life is herself. While she may love every particle of her being, Spyder can't help but to be frightened herself sometimes.
  

OVERALL
Spyder may seem like your average, run of the mill bitch- but her problems lay more towards the inside. Spyder currently suffers from a tricky little disorder known as catatonic schizophrenia. This causes her to be many things she normally wouldn't be. Being diagnosed with this mental disorder, Spyder is extremely agressive. Very similar to what one with a bipolar disorder would, her agression only outburts at random. Any little thing could set her off. Hallucinations are just another of her odd traits. It, along with her agression, came from the schizophrenia. The delusions could be of anything, another person, an orb, an animal. Anything. Spyder doesn't realize that the hallucinations aren't real, and that no one else can see them- and usually tends to ask someone if they saw it as well. If not with anyone, then she won't hesitate to follow it.

Spyder is completely resistant to any and all orders directed towards her. If you ask her, there's a possiblility that she'll do it for you. If you command her to, well then that's another story. Her schizophrenia isn't permanent though by any means. Without necessary treatment, it'll subside within a few months.

Once her schizophrenia ceases to exist, she'll become herself again. Spyder isn't normal by any means. She's short tempered, quick tongued, shameless, and the major downfall for her : she's a killer. Spyder could be defined as the boogeyman, that thing you fear while you walk down a dark alley, the creature that haunts your mind. She's no psychopath, no- Spyder is a maniac. She's violent, cruel, decietful, heartless. Anything you hate in life, Spyder is just that. Though she may be cruel, Spyder does not like to be alone. She's very social, prefering company rather than solitude. But it doesn't alter the fact that she's a horrible, horrible person,

MOTHER Lilia Genève Ayres, 42, whereabouts unknown.
FATHER Dominic (middle unknown) Ayres, age unknown, deceased.
SIBLINGS None that she knows of.
OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE None thus far.
ETHNICITY American-French.
WEALTH STATUS Well off. Far from rich, though no where near being poor.
OVERALL
WIP~
It was that very night that she had

NAME/ALIAS Grimm.
AGE 17.
TIME ZONE Eastern.
HOW YOU FOUND US Another website, can’t remember the name though. Found it in their affiliates.
OTHER CHARACTERS Syrena Nerin Weiss. {Not created yet.}
RP SAMPLE

Monday. Or was it Tuesday? Beelzebub had never really put second thoughts to things of such little importance. It served no purpose, knowing what day it was. Unless of course it was a day without work, then it meant something. Those days became useful, so he'd find something to occupy his time with. That was another thing that he had no purpose of knowing. Time. It was just something everyone seemed to wish they were in control of. To him, it was nothing. He'd stay up far past any time anyone else would and work, forgetting all about what he had had planned for that day. He killed the engine to his 1969 boss 429 and slid out of it's black doors. That car was the child he'd never had, and never wanted. It was a love hate relationship. At times it'd break down, and he'd have to push it out of harm's way, other times it'd just eat down the gas faster than he could process a passing thought. But however much that car gave him hell, it returned it's assy moves with a wonderful ride, and that 'new car' smell.

Opening the door to the bar was no refreshing act. The heavy scent of sweat, alcohol and sex loomed in the room like a dark shadow. It layered itself on the roof of your nostrils until you couldn't breathe. The place would be almost unbearable if only he hadn't grow so used to it. Days of working at the slaughterhouse, or here, had begun to dull his sense of smell. Though, when a new scent were introduced- say a woman, or an angel, it'd recollect its wonder and sniff them out on his orders. Beelzebub walked into the bar's unwelcoming atmosphere, noting several regulars he had seen many times before. He sat at the bar, far from anyone that would start up a conversation. The bartender, a female for the life of him couldn't remember her name, approached him, asking what it was he wanted. He smirked, not a very charming one at that, but a smirk that he had proposed to her nonetheless. " A beer's just fine with me, " He stated, looking her over. She named out the variety of different beers they had, and his mind shot them all through his ear. " Just give me your favorite. " Beel's tone was quite P*ssy, though it had it's intended effect.

The woman soon brought him his alcoholic beverage. It was poured quite awefully in a cheap plastic cup. The brand? He didn't care to ask, and she didn't care to tell. A beer was a beer, he never asked for any specifics. It just went to the same place anyhow. He took a sloppy drink from the cup, the foam dripping down his chin. Beel took a dirty napkin from the stack provided, wiping it clean away. Of course it didn't bother him, and he would've been just fine with the foam being there, still bubbling on his chin, though he hated the looks people would give him if it had still been there. Beelzebub looked around the room nonchalantly, observing what both mortal and immortal were doing. What activities there were playing. A quarrel broke out near the pooltable. Oh how he loved it when the humans bickered. It made him chuckle to himself. Apparently they had been arguing over who had won the game, and who lost. From the ammount of alcohol each man had consumed, neither knew who won, or what it was that they had actually been playing. The arguement soon escalated into an actual fight. Though it was inevitable, given how drunk each man was.

What the fight was actually about, was beyond him. Beelzebub only caught small parts of each man's slurred speach. It apparently had something to do with their cars, and then morphed into other competitive comparisons. He smiled devilishly, taking another drink of his beer. The music in the bar had soon quietted to a humble silence. The voices of the customers seemed to mute, their mouths still moving but their words failing to leave their throat. Beel soon snapped back, standing from his seat, which was now comfortably warm, and headed towards the only good thing in the place. The jukebox. It seemed to be the only expensive thing in the place. He searched through songs, albums, artists, but none seemed to pique his interest. Massive Attack was his last choice, having fews songs he actually enjoyed, he decided to go with the one he liked best. Dissolved Girl. Such a wonderful song for this type of setting. The sexual deviants, the abused women, and the alcoholics. All searching for some sort of comfort. Some had succeeded in their goals, though others hadn't. Beelzebub took in their pain with an exultant sigh. The suffering of others always seemed to complete him.

[izzy]

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