Post by gabriel on Sept 1, 2011 1:36:29 GMT -5
you're my brand of heroin ,
Gabriel Eres Raphime
"You truly are one frightening little monster."
~Jasper Hale~
Gabriel Eres Raphime
"You truly are one frightening little monster."
~Jasper Hale~
character full name: Gabriel Eres Raphime
alias: Gabe
age: Appears twenty-four; 484
birthday: 16 April
affiliation: Lazarus Coven
status: Witch; Warrior
"I'd noticed that his eyes were black - coal black."
~Isabella Swan~
~Isabella Swan~
eyes: Generally blue.
hair: Short, usually blonde hair, though the length changes on whim.
height: 5"10/5"11.
weight: 151
distinguishing features: The mark of his Clan and the thin-framed black-wire glasses he wears.
general appearance: Depending on one's personal definition of "the route of all evil," Gabriel's outward appearance might seem a little confusing - even troublesome, others might say. Not one to fit the general 'evil' appearance, Gabriel can generally be found sporting blonde hair ranging from platinum to dark gold, his eyes only changing from a calm blue to the respective colour befitting his rank and what he does within his coven. He carries himself in a quiet, unassuming way, with a habit of inclining his head during conversations, as if he were confused or pondering something lightly; however, the former is generally untrue. He stands at about average height, not one to loom, and often it is easy to miss his presence in a room unless he feels like announcing himself, in which case his body language will change from subtle, smooth movements to more assertive ones, though he rarely ever attempts this. His skin is generally a light bronze colour befitting the amount of time he spends outside, and his hair rarely reaches passed his neck.
"I will always tell you the truth."
~Alice Cullen~
~Alice Cullen~
likes:
solitude - ever since he was a child Gabriel has enjoyed his solitude, enjoying the time it gives him to think.
fighting - suiting his status as the Warrior of his particular group or Clan of witches, Gabriel enjoys the fight: he enjoys the feeling of adrenaline rushing through his body, he enjoys the warmth of spilled blood, and he enjoys winning.
obedience - to him - in perhaps a like that is hypocritical to his hatred of blind obedience, Gabriel often finds that he enjoys the feeling of other people obeying him, whether grudgingly or out of awe; however, he still dislikes it when people do so blindly.
men & women - though perhaps a more guarded and less known trait, it nonetheless exists.
people with an open or good sense of humour - self-explanatory.
feuds - they're just so delicious...
jewellery - though perhaps a tad bit shallow of him, Gabriel finds himself constantly enjoying the shine of jewellery, often gently chiding those whom he believes to disrespect it.
people with strong heads on their shoulders - there is nothing that refreshes Gabriel more than seeing someone able to stand up for themselves and make strong decisions, and whether or not those decisions are right and wrong mean little to him. He admires those able to display their intelligence with confidence.
dislikes: recap:
disruption of his solitude - Gabriel often reacts very violently to such, the violent disruption of his solitude being enough to get him riled up, his often quiet tones sharpening and gaining a prissy edge.
being hassled to do something - like the majority of people, Gabriel gets defensive when people hassle him to do something, often reacting in a spiteful manner or taking it upon himself to rile them up in order to get back at them for the inconvenience.
being inconvenienced - something he hates almost as much as disruption, Gabriel is loathe to be inconvenienced or otherwise any difficulty caused to his personal pleasure and comfort.
spinelessness - in Gabriel's mind, people unwilling to stand up for themselves should not be in position to complain.
blind obedience - pertaining to spinelessness, Gabriel generally finds himself disapproving vocally about this.
dogs - also pertaining to the above two points, he finds dogs an inconvenience and therefore not worth his time.
things not going according to plan - a very plan-and-logic-driven guy, Gabriel hates it when things spiral out of his control.
losing - though not generally someone obsessed with his pride, Gabriel hates losing, especially when it's to an estranged enemy or anything of the sort.
the destruction of his property, or anything otherwise pertaining to the damage or the loss, whether intentional or not, of anything in his possession or belonging to him - self-explanatory.
overly cheerful people - though generally a very patient man, Gabriel tends to get twitchy over people whom he finds way too cheerful or optimistic, regardless of where their true allegiances lie.
ambitions: though perhaps typical of his alignment, Gabriel wishes to gain enough power or influence to make people and other creatures leave him alone, though in perhaps a twisted come about he also wishes for the power to just make the people he deals with obey, with often conflicts with his hatred of such blind obedience.
abilities:
fierce fighter - unyielding by nature, Gabriel puts up a very fierce and often surprising fight when challenges, fighting tooth and nail and using literally anything he can think of that will help aide him.
talented spellweaver - although a 'warrior', Gabriel possesses the ability to weave and demonstrate a vast array of spells and other witch-and-magic-pertaining abilities.
the ability to change his hair colour - something he worked on for years and years, Gabriel possesses and uses this ability with relish, and has even managed to tie certain things in with his moods.
secrets:
responsible for the death of his sister, Lotti
catoptrophobic
his brutal sadistic streak
an odd connection to the nature he grew up in
personality: it's hard, sometimes, for people to properly sum up Gabriel. His generally quiet personality is easy to see upfront, of course, from the unassuming way he holds himself to the soft dulcet tones of the voice he uses to address most people. He presents the easy image of someone laid back; someone whom you might walk into a room to see perched in a chair, book in hand, black-rimmed wire glasses (which he does actually possess and wear when not doing something physically strenuous) placed delicately on the bridge of his nose, eyes following the words on the page with an inner calm. And this is generally how he is: calm, relatively unflappable, with a constant knowing glint in his eyes and a slight upturn of his lips to match it. He is incredibly aware of himself and how he affects people, often using it to get people to relax in his presence, which is usually fairly easy for him to accomplish. Still, despite all this, his calm is only an illusion, one that can be shattered with a threat to his Clan or even constant pestering, which will give way to a slight twitch in his brow before he loses it completely, often forcibly reminding people that he is a warrior and that he will fight and kill with absolutely everything at his disposal to protect things he deems as important.
And Gabriel is a violent person, and whether this is by nature or something that has developed over time is unclear to most people. He can kill with both weapons and the various spells and general magic at his disposal, shedding the image of a quiet bookworm with an ease that would make many people believe it just a ruse were they not aware of how he works. At times he is also very capable of showing a selfish and/or sadistic streak, becoming rather irrational in those times and capable of lashing at at those who try to calm him down, though the twinge of guilt that usually follows that is generally enough to help him regain control of his senses and calm himself down.
When faced with a rushed deadline, or anything of that sort, he displays a rush of disdain easy to pick out from the stiff way he will begin to react with, ranging from overly-polite actions to full-blown sarcasm."Don't get your family slaughtered for pride."
~Carlisle Cullen~
mother: Serephine Helen Raphime, 801, witch (former rogue Enchantress)
father: Aristotle Paris Raphime, 862, witch (rogue)
siblings: Mary Angeline Raphime, 567, (rogue witch); Lotti Christine Raphime, 234 (witch, dead)
others: Lucifer Jonathon Hartfield, 976 (vampire, former boyfriend); Kendall Jane Rimes, 152 (vampire, vegetarian); Astrael Sarah Harker (23, human)
history: Once upon a time, almost literally centuries ago (he recounts fondly), Gabriel Eres Raphime was born to Serephine Raphime and her husband Aristotle, well out of the way of any other creatures or the influences and plagues (or so his family called the constant feuds) they brought with them. A generally curious child at first, he progressed through the first fifty years with nary any ounces of trouble or reasons to bring his parents worry. He developed his love for solitude (and, perhaps more surprisingly, nature in general) when he was very young, a product of his family's rogue status which prevented them (morally, they claimed) from moving anywhere with a large number of humans or immortal creatures such as vampires and werewolves, as well as the shifters and various other witches that might bring him harm.
With combat drilled into him by his father, and his love of nature and spell-weaving presented to him by his elder sister Mary, Gabriel grew up confident and sure of himself, and it was as normal to find him in his family's small library with his head buried in a book as it was to find him outside sparring with his father, who would take the time to teach his son everything he could, with Gabriel being the only male child in the family. Close with both his sisters, Gabriel was often fiercely protective of them, which was when his sadistic streak first presented itself after a run-in with a couple hostile witches.
The death of his younger sister, Lotti, only served to enhance this.
A logical man deep within, Gabriel didn't waste time wondering what if or could I have saved her? He merely instead accepted the fact that he had failed, that next time he would not fail would never fail again never again and that she had died despite his best efforts in a fight against a small coven of vampires that had ventured too close to his family's home while bother his parents were out. Soon thereafter he found himself leaving the Raphime's modest establishment and travelling, where he found the Lazarus coven and soon found himself melting seamlessly into its inner workings, finding a niche for himself amongst the tight-knit group after the "birthmark" was bestowed upon him by the coven's leader.
The affair with vampire Lucifer Hartfield, however, was something both unwelcome and unexpected.
Meeting the charismatic man on some strange quirk-driven movement of his, the two continued to meet for decades, until circumstances in which neither ever speak of rendered their relationship too difficult and dangerous to maintain, and they dropped it, though the effect on Gabriel hit hard to home and made him volatile and touchy for the next couple of years. Ever since then he had continued his life within the Lazarus coven, and if he tends to be a bit more snippy at certain times of the year, the others have the sense not to comment."You will never put me through that again."
~Esme Cullen~
player: cheyenne/chey
age: sixteen
member title: sanctus espiritus
password: PURE; "they just bring you do"
anything else: I will be limiting myself in terms of Internet this year, and so during the week will not be on after nine (or possibly ten) mountain time. Also my post lengths are sporadic. I will never, never post under 100 words, but I will not push myself to post 400 or 500 unless inspired because I write for fun and for my own enjoyment.
rp sample:
Caspar just watched her steadily, not saying anything while she seemed to think something through. He wouldn't presume to know what it was, and his best guess was that it was something along the lines of "mortals don't understand" - that's usually how it went. And in a way, it was the truth - he didn't understand, because with each year he grew older, and with each day his appearance changed a little more, never staying the same, never one coming close to perfection when it came to appearances - that was something the immortals had. Vampires had the perfect grace; the perfect means of slinking around and surprising their prey through speed and cunning. Werewolves had the perfect build for hunting in terms of strength - muscles, well defined, were visible on every open inch of skin, and he could even see them on the lycan across from him.
In Caspar's mind, humans were a blend of both - masters of nothing but what they chose to at least try and perfect. Lycans and vampires didn't have that choice, he supposed, but then again they became the automatic masters of one thing or another. Humans never could - they could just try and learn as much as possible in the hopes that it would be useful to them one day, like Caspar had. He supposed this was why he had broadened from just archery into fighting with melee weapons, to build up pure physical strength as opposed to just plain speed. Instead of specializing in just one and being perfect, now he was a feared hunter, because he had harnessed both abilities to his will and could execute them with determination that would mirror and make a mockery of what the immortals called their own.
In a way, he almost preferred it like that. He supposed he could see where not having that choice would be devastating.
His mind was torn back to the present when she spoke again, though, and Caspar was silently amused and simultaneously a little awed by how long the conversation had been going. Yes, he had conversed with a couple people he had met over time, but those had been short discussions, more about safety and where they would end up as opposed to just... mundane things. Or as close to mundane as one could get going this sort of thing. It was almost refreshing - not quite, but as close as he had come to it since the hunting mission and the subsequent deaths of over twenty people.
"He probably will," he placated her, careful not to soften his voice, instead keeping it strong and constant. "And he knows that, I assure you. But it ties into your claim that werewolves were peaceful, once upon a time. I assure you they weren't - they were always fighting vampires. You cannot claim yourself peaceful when even my mentioning of them riles you up." Of course, it made him angry too - even the thought of vampires was enough to blacken his mood permanently, his mind plummeting into thoughts of death, destruction, the screams that just wouldn't go away oh Lord please make them stop. But he had never claimed to be peaceful, either. He knew he killed, and he killed as painfully as he could. If Hell hadn't permanently moved itself to Earth, he would have flown straight there after his death.
But now he supposed it didn't really matter.
The hunter stilled, though, as he witnessed her change in mood. He had not expected that sort of response, and it surprised him enough for him to freeze almost completely, muscles seizing up as he tried to gauge the mood of the creature in front of him - human and not, all at once.
But he supposed he put too much value into the trait of "humanity" these days.
He watched her now - watched her conceal her pain and her loss under the guise of a self-righteous sense of justice that he found so revolting in immortal creatures - a streak of hypocrisy that would never go away or be acknowledged, no matter how many times it was pointed out. He had only met one who had been willing to see and accept that, but he had died shortly thereafter - a victim of the vampire queen.
The amount of information he could gather from just one reaction never ceased to amaze him. But he did not push the matter - he had unintentionally brought up a sore spot he sensed she didn't appreciate, but at the same time he did not apologize. He sensed she had had enough people offer false sympathy, or just useless sympathy in general. And he doubted the word of a stranger would console her - she had only just met him, after all, and his words would mean absolutely nothing. So he stayed quiet, watching her quietly, keeping his judgments to himself as he slowly placed his arrow back in its proper place, the bow slung onto his shoulder almost as an afterthought."If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now."
~Rosalie Hale~
made by: Rae {cupcake/vanilla_pop} of RPG-D && Caution 2.0
disclaimer: quotes are from the characters in the Twilight series
copyright: steal and I'll send the Volturi after you. YEAH.
