Simello Yakuotoshi

[» S i m e l l o]

S i m e l l o

" 祇園精舎の鐘の聲、
諸行無常の響あり。
娑羅雙樹の花の色、

盛者必衰のことわりをあらはすz 90;
おごれる人も久しからず、

唯春の夜の夢のごとし。
たけき者も遂にほろびぬ、
偏に風の前の塵に同じ。 "

the basics,

»»character full name: Simello Yakuotoshi
»»age: Twenty.
»»sexual orientation: Pansexual.
»»alignment: Neutral.
»»position: Hunter/Protector.
»»gender: Female.
»»power: Electricity, both of the static and natural type, swirl around her fingertips and can be transferred to whatever she has in her hands. The most common output of this electrical energy is via a weapon, such as a blade or her arrows. The electricity can often do various things when she puts it to use.

The most common usage is to 'charge' arrows that were specially crafted to hold and maintain the electricity. When released, they can either appear to be normal arrows that release varying ammounts of electrical voltage, or seem to be a streak of lightening. The later is generally used on metal 'bolts', crafted to be much similar to normal arrows, but made of a lightweight and durable metal. This keeps the arrow from burning and becoming unable to properly pierce into the target, as would normally happen with wooden arrows. With normal arrows, Simello simply builds up the electrical charge within the tip of the tip of the arrow which is made of metal instead of stone.

Simello has enhanced her bow to have three flexible strings instead of your usual one-string, as a yumi bow uses. These bits of strings are flecked with metal, making the strings similar to guitar strings, but still that of your average bow. Able to fire like a normal bow, with the metal flecks Simello is able to charge each one and upon releasing, the metal appears to 'sing'. The more electrical charge they have, the higher their notes become, usually passing over the human hearing range and going straight to that of the mutant animal's, deafening them and even going so far as to burst their ear drums. Sometimes, humans who can hear higher ranges will gain headaches, temporary deafness, and even confusion from the frequency of the 'notes'.

the appearance,

»»eyes: A deep, lapsis lazuli blue.
»»markings:
»»height: 5`9 feet.
»»weight: 143 pounds.
»»general appearance: Hair cropped short, a beautiful blue-sheened black, her hair is completely straight. Prone to becoming messy quite easily due to its fine, thin texture, it otherwise sits nearly unmoving. Simello's eyes are an uncloudy deep blue, the same shining colour similar to a blue gem. Her skin tone is a soft tan colour, days spent in the sunlight tanning her otherwise pale creamy skin.

Clothing, while most other residents of the Village are modern, are dated. She wears leather armor upon her shoulders, waists, legs, and hands. Many pouches upon the leather of her waist are tied and metally clipped into place. Metal decorates portions of the leather, the toe and heal of her shoes made of a non-gleaming and non-shiny metal. Cloth garments shield the rest of her body, leaving only inches of her legs and the upper portion of her chest and face visible. These are her preferable clothing for hunting, or 'protecing' the village. Outside of the time that she's doing her duties to the village, or exploring the deadly forest, Simello wears kimonos and yukatas, as well as simple cotton pants that are exceedingly baggy, leather tunics with cotton shirts under it.

Sometimes, she even goes so far as to wander about in nothing more than a pair of hakama and bandages covering and binding her chest, which is far more common when she wanders around the village.

the personality,

»»likes: Hunting, wandering through the forest ( regardless of danger ), water, playing her Zither.
»»dislikes: Midnight, irrational and dangerous animals, being spoken down to, being confused by commands, even being emotionless.
»»strengths: As if a GPS has been surgically placed in her head - Simello can basically find her way around anywhere, even if she's never been there before. Retracing steps, logically deducing and following animal tracks, etc are her strong points. These have come from years of training, and just seem to be a habit of hers to hold mental images, like a photographic memory, in her mind. Another of her strengths is being good when it comes to conversations, or helping emotionally and mentally with difficult conversations. Usually the one that is spoken to by many for psychological reasons, Simello can easily pick up on someone's emotions. There is no particular reason behind this, however.
»»weaknesses: Fire is one of Simello's largest weaknesses. Most anything to do with fire will cause her to draw back and avoid whatever is going on. When she was younger, Simello accidentally set fire to her home, and with that, most of her family. Another would be, regardless of being able to pick out what others are feeling and have emotional awareness, she is horrible at feeling emotions and empathy with others. Always coming at a logical point in conversations, pity and comfort are not things that she can give. This makes her equally hard to relate to, and quite standoffish.
»»secrets: None.
»»general personality: Simello is quiet and, while not unsocial, would rather listen to and watch people talk and move around without joining in. Socially awkward, she's good at debating and striking up conversations with people, however carrying them or putting any emotion or feeling into it is hard. Unless she's talking about something she's very interested in, or has her own emotional attachments to, she would rather listen and watch and try to comprehend their feelings. Simello is unable to listen to someone's woes without giving her input, which she knows is annoying, however she cannot help it.

Something odd about Simello, as she protects the village and those within it under the watchful gases of the 'heads' in the village, is that Simello protects them only because they are important to her, and out of a sense of need to protect someone and save souls that are in equal worth of those in her family. While no one soul is worth another, Simello understands that, and it is why she has spent every day of the last nine years of her life protecting the village and its inhabitants. Another year and she believes she will be free of the burden her family's souls have put on her.

She is neutral, and as long as she has something to protect or is given a duty, Simello will follow through with it at any costs. Emotions are not something she is used to, having mostly locked them away years ago, and never lets them interfere with her commands.

the history,

»»mother: Deceased.
»»father: Deceased.
»»siblings: Deceased.
»»others: Unknown.
»»background: Simello grew up in a family of twelve. Her two grandparents, her mother and father, and eight brothers and sisters ( four of each, respectively ). She did not grow up in the village that had spread out with illness, though her ancestors did come from there. On her twelth birthday, Simello ended up unleashing her affinity for electricity in the store room of her family's home. This caused a fire, in the depths of the night, and a little less than half of her family was able to escape. Both of her parents and most of her siblings were killed in the fire, as well as her grandmother, their screams drowning out her sobs.

Her grandfather, the only of her grandparents left alive, had manage to rescue two of her brothers. The rest perished. Knowing of her ancestry, her grandfather sent her to the Village, taking what was left of her family far away. Already holding a few skills with her bow, she practiced and honed them on her journey to the village. They came in handy on the adventure, as the further she closed, the more mutated the wildlife became. Lost, Simello was found not long after wandering into the depths of the forest of mutated creatures.

She was found not long after by a few other children, around her own age, who lived in the village. They told her stories of how their parents had been killed by a strange sickness, and how the animals were slowly becoming more and more mutated, though there were sparse amounts of normal animals left.

It was then that Simello came to hone her abilities further, creating specialized weapons with which she learned to use. Dual scimitars that count hold the electricity she released, as well as a specialized bow that made the mutated animals of the forest and those with sensitive hearing, shriek in pain - sometimes die from the ear injuries alone.

the player,

»»alias: Dresden
»»age: Sixteen
»»contact: chatango - dresden/ginger/art/nauseous
»»rp sample:

Long, slender, pale finders slid over the chipping white paint of his room. That stroke was followed by another, and then another, and so on. Each time, those long, slender fingers were dragged even harder a crossed the painted windowsill. They took up more paint with each stroke. A few more strokes, and the once-white paint became a beautiful pink-red tone, smeared in three streaks from one end of the sill to the other. Noel grinned as the splinters were lodged into his hand, and then ripped out, tugging skin with them. So many, so thick and so deep into his fingers, that once ripped out by their fellow pieces of wood - they'd caused his skin to give way, and let loose the torrent of blood. Now, Noel was not too twisted a male, nor did he have any particular reason for being so. Did everyone? No, not really, but most did. Some twisted background, some insane story. Abuse, molestation, abandonment - pure insanity.

While many would, and could, argue over the later - Noel was quite capable and had not suffered any poor upbringing at all. Nothing had triggered his ' episodes ', nothing had caused him to panic and lash out. Most who knew him before the media had gone crazy themselves over him, thought him to be a very solid male with a very lovely upbringing. He was clean, not overly so for a male. He had good manners, enough to win the ladies over. The male had a good appetite, though ate quite a bit of chicken compared to anything else. Which was normal, and not something that he could be called out for.

Noel had, all around, been a very average male with only a few things that stood out about him. First being the most noticeable; his love for birds. Any types of birds. Wild, caged, bland coloured, magnificent in colour hue and span. He completely adored and fawned over them. When the police had first arrested him, they were amazed by the number of birds that resided in his home. Thirty, perhaps fourty were taken into animal control. Noel had worked as a hotel Manager, which paid quite him well enough every moth to take care of himself and the birds. They were all completely healthy, in perfect condition. The second of the things that stood out about Noel was one that was not quite noticeable, but became apparent upon close inspection. Erratic OCD behaviour. If something was amiss, he had to fix it. Whether it be the way his chair lined with his desk, the way his pencils sat in their metal basket. The way the books on the shelves of his office sat, or even in some cases, the way his customers and others sat, stood, or looked while around him.

Controlling this behaviour had been hard for him, though he had mastered it. Upon arrest and being brought to St. Mary's ( the ' loony bin ' he currently lived in ), it had been stated that Noel's rampant and unmonitored OCD behaviour had probably been the reason why he'd killed thirty - nine men and women. Control, power. The need and drive to fix things that are wrong. A God-complex, one could say. Noel did not fight their assumption, but nor did he give any indication that they were correct. Instead, he had simply repeated, over and over. " I was asked to do it, but of course. The birds you see, ever since I was a child. So perfect, so flawless. Or perhaps it was her, the one that brought them to me in the first place. " This insane rambling had been ignored, classified as his mind finally snapping after being caught and locked up, treated the way he was.

Noel had never been a violent man towards himself, or anyone who did not seem to provoke him in one way or another. Not in the time he spent working, not in the time that he went out with now ex-friends, nor in the time he spent in a relationship with any woman. He had never been irrational or particularly odd, save for in those moments where something had to be fixed. Even then, after that, none of his friends ( or even family ) could say that they expected something like this to come from their sweet, beloved Noel.

Named after his great - aunt, born the day she died of cancer, and his grandfather, Noel never had any sort of insanity show up in his family history either. His ' insanity ' was classified as something completely random, or many in his life had gone to extreme lengths to hide things that might have caused him to turn out the way he did. The case was dropped years ago, left an incomplete file. For three years, Noel had been locked away. Many had come and gone the first year, and part of the second. Then nothing. Near complete silence for Noel and the wardens who looked over him and all the others on the 4th floor of St. Mary's - the floor for the considerably dangerous. Some were let out of their rooms, but heavily dosed, nothing more than lifeless drones of their former selves. Noel was not like them, or at least, not like most of them. He was let out three times a week, to stretch his legs. The corridors and halls were kept clear, as were the social rooms and cafeteria.

While he had not once had an outburst against a fellow patron since his arrival, he'd never been given a chance to. Always in his room, save for those three days he was let out for physical activities. He generally ate in his room, alone, with only himself. Noel had been completely average while in confinement, save for a few outbursts or self-harm episodes now and then. They ranged from light to sever, once having managed to slam his head so hard into the wall of his room that it cracked the front of his skull. So hard, in fact, that it had put a hole in the wall of his room as well. For three months the male had been put in a padded cell, and then he was let back into his normal room, the hole repaired. Other incidents also occurred. The male would mysteriously be found with a knife or other sharp object. Paper would appear in his room, pens as well, and writing that didn't match his own - nor anyone elses' on that floor - would be found upon his desk. He never attacked a warden or doctor, but whispers and rumours kept them far from him.

It was a very average day, the one where Noel was escorted from his room, down the hallway, a floor down, and down even more hallways. Whispers could be heard like buzzing insects, and small things happened along the way that drove Noel to fidgeting, constantly fixing this and that while moving down the hall. Perfectly aligning a cart with not only the floor tiles, but ceiling tiles. Directing a nurse to shift her hat and hair just so, as he needed perfect symmetry before he could move on. The wardens and guards were annoyed by his slow pace and antics, as well as his request for new bandages on his bleeding fingers each time the blood soaked threw and became noticeable. They were jumpy, on edge. Expecting him to try and get away, get out, attack someone.

The trip was without any major incident, however. Noel was delivered to a simple room, similar to that of an interrogation room in a police officer's quarters. He was sat in an uncomfortable metal chair, his wrists and arms handcuffed to not only the table in front of him, but the floor. His ankles were also cuffed to the floor, keeping him more or less perfectly confined. The male sat there calmly, his eyes sweeping around the room. Once or twice the chair in front of him was moved at his request, but otherwise there was silence. The room was a soft white colour, with a dark gray trim on the top of the walls as well as the bottom. The floor was the typical white and black fake-marble. There was a large, floor to ceiling length mirror sitting to the right of him. Obviously a two way mirror, though Noel paid it no mind.

Supposedly, today he would be talked to by a psychiatrist. Though he knew not what their purpose was, nor their intent, Noel had been amused. He'd accepted before he even knew everything. Something to get out of that dingy little room. Something to actually speak to another human being. One that might, perhaps, actually be able to understand him. He was thirty - two years old, the supposed ' prime ' of his life. Noel looked young, though. Twenty - five, perhaps twenty - eight at the youngest. A smooth face, calm features. No wrinkles whatsoever. It ran in the family, and he was delighted for it. What if his wrinkles didn't align right? A horrid event that would be.

Shifting slightly in his chair, Noel eyed the door, waiting intently for the arrival of his new ' partner '.

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[Hayyel Crawford]

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