:-[j.u.s.t.i.c.e]-:
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Joined: Jun 2007
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|  | .: In this world with no {justice} :.
« Thread Started on Jun 11, 2007, 10:51am » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
OOC:
Name/Alias: Justice
Email: my1own4song@aol.com
Sex: Female
IC:
Name:
Justice Macy Adams
Sex:
Female
Age:
16 years
Photo: ![[image]](http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d131/AnimeKisses/Yara.jpg)
Personality:
Enclosed: Long ago she gave up trying to speak with anyone else without getting hurt. Her attitude towards life is, live it as if no one else was near you. She seems to have no physical need for conversation and has often been mistaken for a mute.
Depressed: She sees only the hurt in the world around her although she tries to close it off. It makes her hurt also, not physically mind you, but mentally. Whatever fills her eyes fills her heart and mind. Whatever fills her heart and mind pours forth into her actions. The only exception is that she will never do anything to help.
Helpless: She feels that, because of her apparent age, she cannot do anything to help anyone and it leaves her feeling helpless, like a simple ragdoll in the corner, watching the world flash by but being unable to stop it long enough to grab hold and stumble along for the ride.
History:
She was born of a human and a vampire, her father being the vampire. There was something about the race that caused her mother for feel such a passion for them that made her do such a thing. Her parents were never married, but that is not such an unusual thing. After she was born her mother died from blood loss for the vampire began to live off of her blood alone, he did not have to travel far to get it anyway. It was because of this that Justica hated her father. She had no name since her father ran off shortly after she was born and her mother had died.
She was taken in by a family of good-doers. They named her Macy Adams since Adams was their surname and they just liked the name Macy. But something always caused her to forget that was her name. She gave herself a name, Justice. She had no idea why, she supposed she had just liked the sound when she was young. But that name stuck with her. Her eight brothers and sisters, most orphans like herself, all called her Justice although her adopted parents refused to do so.
She soon found that she had a deep passion for blood although she could not extract it like a vampire. She had no desire to drink such a thing but she would sit and watch horror movie after horror movie for hours. Her sketch books were filled to the brim with pictures of battle scenes and vampires. She just loved the blood and gore that accompanied such things. This passion was what told her adopted parents of her heritage. They soon left her in the streets, fearing that she might act like a vampire and soon grow fangs.
Fangs she soon had but she did not drink the vile liquid although she continued to read, draw, and watch such things. At the age of thirteen she was selling her drawings to whoever happened to see them. She did a lot of backlot dealings, trading some of her disturbing pictures for drugs. She lived by stealing but that was alright with her. The only thing that she wound not do was have sex with anyone. She would not sell her body. It was the one principle that she clung to. She would not be her mother.
Quote:
...
Example Post
This if one of my posts from another site since I am too lazy to post anything right now:
Quote:
Savanah set the letter on the gravestone, amidst the white roses and the box of chocolates, and placed a small kiss on the cold stone, imagining that it was, once again, her boyfriend’s lips that her’s brushed, rather than chilling marble. She thought about her promise to try and make death a little easier for him. But her heart broke within her and she just sat down beside the headstone and sobbed, her arms rapped around the stone. She missed him more than she would tell anyone. Her hatred for the men who had murdered him swelled in her chest until she thought she would burst.
They had butchered him, leaving his handsome face in the mud. They cared not for him, his family, his girlfriend who loved him more than she loved air. All they cared for was the joy that they received from killing him, and the money that they stole from him, as well as his car. No doubt they would steal his identity if they hadn’t already. No one had been able to track the men down and that small fact was killing Savanah. No one spoke of those who the murder had touched on the television. The fallen were just names to everyone. But to Savanah, it was hell.
Her tears settled in a small pool of water on the top of the gravestone as she set her chin on it, her sobs being as silent as death. She sat up, untangling her arms from the cold marble, it could not love her, it could not bring back Jacob. She brushed her sleeve across her eyes and sniffed. This life meant nothing without her lover, it meant absolutely nothing to her. She looked around, in the rain that had begun to pour from the heavens, her tears mixed with the liquid, the grace of its gentle warmth not melting her wounded and frozen soul. No one else was in the graveyard.
Savanah’s slender fingers caressed the flowers. Her form changed into that of a gentle butterfly. Her wings were dark as midnight, the gentle scales creating a design of silver shimmering ice. The fragile form settled softly into the roses. She breathed in the sweet scent of the blooms. Her lungs filling for the last time. She dove down among the stems of the plants, tearing her gentle wings on the thorns until she lay, shredded, among the flowers of her lover, her red blood splattered over the green. Her tiny body heaving as she strove to breath just one last time before she spent the rest of her life at the site of her lover’s body. With the last of her strength she changed into a human again and lay beside her lover’s gravestone, her bloodied hands reaching for the marble, smearing the red over the white that his parent’s had chosen. She spoke softly.
I love you…
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