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Meeting Death (Mira and Ana)
Ana's characters
-Kestrel -Currently no others http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b4...lm/Kestrel.jpg Kestrel Strathe Description: Gentle and thoughtful without being shy or quiet. She has long, straight dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Her skin is a mid-peach. She loves reading and gardening, and is fascinated with philosophy. History: Twenty year-old Kestrel was born with lupus, an autoimmune disease which causes her white blood cells to target her own body. Because of this, she's grown progressively more sick as she's aged, and she has a hard time leaving her sterile white bedroom these days. It doesn't stop her from trying, though, as her garden is just outside her bedroom window. Every day she can, she sneaks out to tend to it. Ordinarily, her thoughts are filled with fairy tales and flowers. Lately, however, she's been having some unusual dreams relating to death, particularly when the disease acts up again. |
Mira's Characters:
-Ciarán -Currently no others http://i371.photobucket.com/albums/o...g?t=1306308938 Ciarán Donnagán Description: Arrogant, but kindhearted deep down, with clay red hair and chilling crimson eyes. A spoiled brat, and oftentimes very immature when he doesn't get his way. He sees humans as an inferior species in general. Loves to garden and is fascinated with astronomy. History: Ciarán deliberately hides his past from people because he doesn't want them to know how he was raised in a semi-abusive household. He never did and never will get along with his brute of a father, a Demonic Afrit who treated him and his small brother very roughly before Ciarán spirited himself and his younger brother out of his family home and went off to live on his own. To provide for his brother, he reaps, and he is paid in full by the Demonic Government for his services as long as his quotas are filled. Unlike most of his associates, he does not own a human servant. He and his brother live in a huge mansion overlooking Lake Pepito, the largest lake in the land, and he often throws big, extravagant parties in said mansion. |
Mrs. Strathe traced a finger along her daughter's red cheeks gently. Twenty years felt like a drop in the bucket to Kestrel's mother. "She's just so young... can it really end this way?" she murmured now, her voice quivering.
Mr. Strathe put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Liz, we've seen her pull miracles before." "Yes, and every time she pulls through, the next bout gets a little worse! How long do you really think she can keep this up, Stanley?" Mr. Strathe was silent for a long moment, shaking his head. "If I could give you an answer, you know I would. I just... I'm out of answers, Liz. I don't know what to do anymore, except try to make her comfortable. As hard as it may be, we need to start thinking about saying goodbye." Mrs. Strathe's kind face pruned at that, and she buried her face in her husband's shoulder, tracing her fingers through Kestrel's hair. Mr. Strathe, distressed himself, cooed to her softly, bending down to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek before helping his wife from the room. All through the talk, Kestrel had been listening. She had never told her parents, but even in the worst of her fevers or illnesses, she could hear every word they spoke at her bedside. A few years ago, she'd stopped thinking that was a bad thing. She was going to die. The sooner she could accept that, the more comfortable she'd be in death. And perhaps, by encouraging this distance with her parents, who really were the best of people, she could make her leaving a little easier on them, too. Logically, it all made sense. There was just one small problem - that nagging voice in the back of her head, the pathos which cut through her logos. I don't want to die. Kestrel felt a flicker of irritation at the voice, which manifested itself at the absolute worst of times. She didn't have much time to focus on it now, though, as a wave of dizziness hit her. It was time to sleep. She opened herself up to her exhaustion and fell asleep almost at once, looking forward, as she always did, to a night filled with dreams. |
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