Post by Bastetta Aziza on Jul 6, 2010 2:03:17 GMT -5
----With the sands of time crafted this demon inside----
The sun rose high over the sands of her new homeland, her new kingdom, her new life. Slaves hurried in with platters of gold covered in the finest meats, treats, and delicacies found in all of Egypt. The symbol of the goddess Bast on each of their bodies as they knelt beside her thrown of silk not daring to come closer for they might disturb her. Felines of course were the main theme of her chambers along with the real creatures lounging, sleeping, prowling, and staring at the slaves from on high. It wasn’t like she’d told them she was a goddess just because she had powers they’d never seen, and couldn’t seem to die. They feared her and that fear was delicious. Dressed in gold and jewels she wondered why her kind had ever hesitated on coming to this world.
The times changed like they were bound to do, and with them she changed. It was easy to change when your shape was so easily manipulated. The styles of the ages came and went speech flowed from her tongue from the richness of the Egyptians to the harshness of the Germanics and onward to the smooth soft tone of the Asians. Always blending, always changing, and most importantly always learning. There were many of her kind in this world now but they had done something that made her legion scream in fury. They had mated with the natives, but worst yet, produced spawn. Their kind had become tainted and weak. Developing the same emotions as these savages, and following their guidelines for a good life. Like she needed those things called morals, or that thing called regret. They depended highly of the kindness and stupidity of the mortals to keep them alive. It made her sick.
By the turn of the century Victorian England glistened before her like a rare jewel. She frequented the libraries always laughing when she found myths about her kind. The streets of London had a sweet aroma of death and blood whenever she walked the streets at night. It made her laugh uproariously with her comrades when the papers filled with the horror stories of Jack the Ripper. As if a man could be that brilliant with a blade. Those women had never suspected her and neither had those fools they called the London Guard. But soon boredom struck again and she moved on, changing, shifting, and always learning.
America the land of plenty, land of dreams, and a land of torment. A boat took her to the shores of New York City and there she stayed. She watched the country age and mature into a ripe fruit ready to sink her claws into. The stench of the mortals clung to her now but she paid it no mind. It made it all the better to blend in, all the easier to kill them. So many of her kind treated the cattle as though they deserved respect by making pacts with them, and bargaining with them like those insects had any real power. The world was her food and she only made pacts when she wanted to play to trick some sap into believing she could grant all their wishes. In the end their blood stained her hands.
A school had recently moved into the grand city she had grown quite attached to, and though at first she shrugged it away, soon it caught her eye. Her kind could be found there. Other beasts with differently seasoned blood hid behind those walls. It was so easy to change. It was so easy to breech the gate. Mouth watering she wanders the halls scoffing at the descendants produced by her supreme race. Their legion made her thirst for blood, her ears ache for the tantalizing screams of children, and with her beloved Egyptian Mau in her arms she entered.
The university was as close as she was going to get not being able to stand gazing into a mirror with a teenager staring back at her. A young woman would suit her fine as it always had, and it wouldn’t be hard to use this form to slink her way into the Academy. It surprised her to find so many of her kind there, but that would suit her just fine. Maybe she could teach them how to be real demons again, or teach them what it meant to be of old. She wasn’t stupid there were those who could destroy her but she wasn’t looking for them, no, she was looking for their fledglings. Attack the heart, the squishy part of these beings, and they always fall.
Current Name: Bastetta Aziza
Broadcasted Age: 20
Race: Demon
Trait: Illusion: taste, touch, sight, hearing it is real as long as your brain perceives it. Unless the person is informed that is it an illusion they’d most likely view it as reality. (of course there are exceptions) Much like the glamour of the fae but no dust to warn people. It simply is there.
Real Name: She will never tell and most likely has forgotten it.
Real Age: Untold of (Did you read the back story? Good. Then you know she’s frackin’ old.)
True Form: Feline like in appearance but monstrous in size and twisted. Fur the blackest pitch, eyes of fire shining from a dark abyss, and spikes can spring and retract on her seemingly never ending tail like claws. Wings spread far from her spine somewhat reptilian but furred in places with dagger like bones sticking out at the points. (This form will most likely rarely be seen and it’s not pretty it’s a nightmare to look at.)
-Oh, right the violin thing. Well, everyone needs a hobbie right? ^.~
((will make sure the trait is allowed and if I am allowed to be a demon before posting))
