EMAIRE, axele noelle

[aspen]

AXELE NOELLE EMAIRE !?
'and in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat; i tried to find the sound. but then it stopped, and i was in the darkness—so darkness i became.'

FULL NAME Axele [ack-zel-uh] Noelle Emaire
NICKNAMES Xel [zel] or Xele [zel-uh]
AGE Looks about 25; thirty-nine years old
GENDER Female
BIRTHDAY January eighteenth
SPECIES Ghost
ALLIANCE Light side
SEXUALITY Heterosexual

PLAY-BY Elsa Hosk
EYES Xel has central heterochromia; the iris around her pupil is hazel, while the rest is light blue with a dark grey ring.
HAIR Varying shades of blonde throughout, falling to her mid-back, and thick but smooth. It tends to get very wavy, but never truly curly or straight.
BODY TYPE Athletic; slender but muscled.
HEIGHT 5’7”
WEIGHT 135 lbs
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES Her eyes are probably the most striking thing about her; she has a fairly curvy figure. One could say she has a… bodacious bosom. Or a nice rack, depending on who’s talking.
STYLE Xel tends to gravitate towards loose clothing that emphasizes her small waist, mainly belted dresses or skirts although she has few obvious preferences. Length-wise, the shorter the better, although she’s toned down the metallics and sequins just a little since her death. In terms of jewelry, she wears a couple of rings; maybe a solitary necklace with small pendants. As for footwear, it depends entirely on the situation. Wedges and heels typically, but if whatever errand she’s running involves too much walking, she’s not too proud to be sensible and don some flats. She finds makeup largely unnecessary, although once in a while she’ll wear some liner and mascara.

LIKES

• Nighttime
  
• Velvet or sequined clothing, anything flashy.
  
• Heights
  
• Turning solid
  
• Cold, gloomy weather—no downpours, though.
  
• Loud places, like clubs, bars, parties.
  
• Being around humans
  
• New clothing
  
• Small animals [horses, wolves, anything bigger than, say, a spaniel scares her]
  
• Sweet foods
  

DISLIKES

• Children
  
• Bad tempers (including her own)
  
• Surprises
  
• Rain/hail/snow
  
• Silence (especially those of the awkward variety)
  
• Being manipulated
  
• Condescension
  
• Being a ghost—but she fears leaving this world even more
  
• Excessive gore, mainly in films but she’d probably hate it equally in reality
  
• Particularly chatty people, or airheads who only discuss themselves
  

STRENGTHS

• Impassive—she has a talent for showing little to no emotion
  
• Fit, and in-shape with a lean figure built well for running.
  
• Intelligent
  
• Independent
  

WEAKNESSES

• Distrusting
  
• Impatient
  
• Awful, explosive temper
  
• Shifty/unreliable—she does whatever is necessary to get her further
  

HABITS

• Biting her tongue in thought
  
• Picking at her fingernails
  
• Touching things with interesting/odd textures
  

FEARS

• Death after death (“moving on”)
  
• Most Demons
  
• Encountering the man she killed
  

DESIRES

• To meet the ghost of the man she killed, if he exists, and reconcile
  
• Find a person she genuinely loves. Maybe not a romantic love, but any kind.
  

SECRETS At least 1.

• Killed a complete stranger after being possessed by a demon. This is one thing she constantly tortures herself about because, despite the situation, she feels ultimately responsible.
  
• Never had a steady boyfriend/fiancée.
  

OVERALL
Death has subdued Xele, to put it simply. Prior to her murder, she was all over the club and dance scene, breathing life into every party with her fiery (albeit a little bitchy) nature. Now, she prefers a quieter, although still loud, lifestyle, with the occasional party but more alone time. The first few years of becoming a ghost were a struggle for Xel; before, she was well known for stepping into bed with every attractive man who looked her way. She’d always put her figure to good use, and it was never hard to find a more than willing guy. When she found it near impossible to stay solid for an entire evening and night, it was extraordinarily frustrating, and she smothered her, shall we say, desires for a fair amount of time. The result was simply that Xel gradually became less promiscuous—ultimately a good thing, considering the potential drawbacks of attachment or commitment. Both of which, of course, Xel is absolutely terrified of.

It’s that fear that causes her instinctual detachment and mistrust of others, but this isn’t to say she’s antisocial. Past the icy exterior, Xele is actually a decent person—surprise, surprise. She’s flighty and a little haughty, which makes it more difficult to build relationships even if she wanted them. To her friends and some acquaintances, she is cordial at worst, and in some cases could be qualified as sweet—it all depends on the person. While it isn’t particularly difficult to get into Xel’s good graces, it’s sure as hell easier to get out of them. Her explosive temper, which she despises, typically ends in disaster. A violent streak does occasionally rear its ugly head, but it’s limited to punches and kicks. Only once has she ever used an actual weapon, a pocket knife, on a pair of would-be robbers, and the resulting wounds were a few small cuts on the men—hardly significant. As a ghost, she has little need to work on combat skills, though one day they could come in handy.

It’s fair to say that Xele truly hates very few people, but included in those few is a particular demon, the one that made her a killer and eventually, the one that killed her. Genuine and bluntly honest, she makes up for her indecisiveness and selfish decisions by stating exactly what she’s going to do in certain situations. Possibly the best example of this is her alignment with the Light. It isn’t her actual opinion that the real world should remain a well-kept secret—in fact, her ideals stray closer to those of the darkness—but since the Dark is so outnumbered, she’s chosen to place her allegiance with the Light. That, and she’s rather affectionate of several humans who are unaware of her true form.

Perhaps Xele’s most prominent attribute is her independence. She is fiercely so, and strong enough mentally to deem it unnecessary to have anyone else in her life. Relationships are almost entirely physical for her, since attachment tends to end in hurt. Xel’s known enough bad men to know that, the vast majority of the time, anything more than platonic or strictly one- or two-night lovers is a waste of time. She’s still trying to find out what is binding her to this world—perhaps it is just that, or it extends further to encompass her want for revenge on a particular demon. Reconciliation with the man she was forced to kill would be lovely, as well. Unfortunately, with Xel, there are no specifics and nothing is guaranteed.

MOTHER Viva Rusa Emaire, Deceased
FATHER Arik Svante Emaire
SIBLINGS None
OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE N/A
ETHNICITY Swedish
WEALTH STATUS Middle-Working Class
OVERALL
“ I had an easy childhood. I was born into a normal human family with normal human traditions. We lived in Stockholm, and I can still recall vividly the city lights at dawn. Clear skies, even that early in the morning. The cold weather was my favorite part, although when the snowstorms hit and school was canceled, it was never fun. This, my childhood, is the boring part. My mother was called Viva, and she died whilst giving birth to my little brother—who also died, leaving my father, Arik, and I alone together. It was funny how things played out; he worked three part-time jobs to get me through an expensive private academy, thinking it would keep me on a normal path. But there was only so much he could do. My teachers had always said I had a craving for adventure, and that became abundantly clear when I left home.

Father had kept me pinned down, keeping tabs on my location and a strict curfew, so I reveled in my newfound freedom. I went to clubs and parties, drank and slept around like everybody else I knew did. I turned twenty. That was when everything changed, really—when I had my first encounter with the real world. I didn’t realize what was going on at the time, of course. A demon had taken up a… fascination of sorts, I guess, with me. I don’t remember why he was in Sweden, or how he found me, or even when exactly he decided pursuit to kill would be fun, only that he approached me and told me I was beautiful, and that I spent the next week or so with him. He was unfairly gorgeous—can you blame me? He left, and life as usual went on.

Four years passed without much change in anything—my behavior or my connection with supernaturals, or lack thereof. Briefly, I considered dating a close friend, but both of us balked at the idea of a real relationship. Instead, we went for strictly physical—no labels, just the fun stuff. Naturally, that didn’t work out (does it ever?) and it ended very badly. I found myself alone, friendless in Sweden. So I appealed to my father, who used the last of his savings to buy me a plane ticket to Manuka. I never got to really thank him for everything he did, but I can’t go see him as I am now. I would feel too guilty, unable to tell him the truth—and it could end badly for the both of us. But I arrived in Manuka, and chaos ensued.

The demon I’d encountered years ago—who, to me, was still Marko the human boy I’d met at a bar—showed up again, but this time his intentions were less… seductive. It would be incredibly amusing, I suppose he thought, to see such an innocent looking little blonde girl kill another human.

I remember seeing eyes flash black before darkness, and then I saw my hands. My hands, fixed around this poor stranger’s neck, squeezing until finger-shaped prints had appeared and a final gasp marked his end. He died, just as the demon released me and I could feel the last breath ease from his lips.

And then the demon killed me, swiftly. I suppose I should be thankful for that. It was a simple cut across the throat, a single fluid motion that left me lying in a pool of blood. But it was odd, because the scarlet-soaked, mangled young woman lying on the ground was a mere husk of me. The blinding pain was my last feeling as a real human. His face was my last sight. I will never forget either.

The first months were torture as I bumbled through life after death. My attempts to turn solid were typically in vain, though I eventually got the hang of it. I’d died in an alley behind a club, so that became my small solace in a world of bewilderment. I didn’t understand then why who I thought was a man had killed me. I’d done nothing. But I learned, and revenge was my next thought. However, those thoughts didn’t last long. So I’ve practiced turning solid and staying in one place, keeping mostly to myself. Mainly because ifI stay in Manuka, and if that demon ever shows his face, I’ll have the practice to rip it off. ”

NAME/ALIAS lacey
AGE eighteen
TIME ZONE pacific
HOW YOU FOUND US advert on another site
OTHER CHARACTERS n/a
RP SAMPLE

It was cold, and she was crazy. The fifty-three-year-old Elder strolled peacefully among the trees, shoulders back, sharp eyes cast up at the treetops. She knew the area too well, knew where every tree lay. At this moment she should be at home or her office, warm and happy-- or as close to happy as a cranky old woman could get. The frost glittered like diamonds, cold and pale, and crunched under her boots. Hellena Moss hated boots, the way they closed her feet in and restricted her legs. She hated the way the frost glared at her with beams of sunlight, and she hated how her back ached from the cold. I hate being old.

Hellena was dressed simply, a pale green, light dress settling on her bony shoulders, inlaid with silver thread in intricate patterns up the stiffer bodice, and tiny pearls-- or maybe it was diamonds? She couldn't even remember the six-digit price on the expensive dress, only that she liked it and it kept her warmer than the other ones did. Truly, why should she care how she looked? She was just on a lonesome walk, mourning the loss of her youth and moping about life in general. After all, aside from her real job, that's what she did best. Anyway, here she stood, mercilessly destroying a priceless dress by dragging the silky hem across a dirty, frosty ground and wasting her alone-time. Well, her time. They were the same anyway.

When the sounds came from just to her right, Hellena pursed her thinned lips and narrowed the odd-colored eyes she was known so well for. Wrinkles spread from the corner of each eye, though not from a smile, just from worry. How long, exactly, that noise had been there, she didn't know. Her hearing nowadays was just not as good. The bow slung carelessly over one shoulder was in bony, pale hands in an instant, and a green-and-gold fletched arrow notched. She didn't draw the thing yet, even though the action would have been just as quick and effortless. At least, she thought drily, that is one thing that hasn't been degrading over the years.

Not that she was in any bad shape for her age, anyway. Thirteen long years of near-professional acrobatics had worn the skin on her hands into hard callouses, and archery had given and maintained muscles on her scrawny arms. Her hair, once nearly black, was now a silvery-white and pulled back into a loose bun. White strands pulled free and made a sort of halo around her severely angled face, where high cheekbones were especially defined by tight skin. And of course, her most striking features, her eyes. Two tones of bright green and icy blue gazed sharply from beneath thinning pale eyebrows.

this was written for one of my only old characters. xD

[ALLY]

A C C E P T E D !
fdjnvldskfvn told you i'd love her!
don't forget the sext claims, love!