Post by faust on Sept 30, 2008 20:08:38 GMT -1
Character Name: Aharah
Species: Angel (Throne)
Age, Gender: Asexual, and without age.
Description: Aharah is an average-height, willowy man with pale blond, almost silvery hair and light brown eyes. Frustrating his lack of musculature is his penchant for wearing breezy and loose clothing. When in human form (and thus cut off from the choir robes he loves so much), he usually wears modern clothing that are a few sizes too big for him; short-sleeve shirts that he wears like long-sleeves, pants frayed from having been constantly stepped on, ballcaps hanging haphazardly on his head, et cetera.
Personality: Aharah has always had the vexing habit of taking absolutely nothing seriously. He loves playing guardian angel, but acts as though it were just some manner of game. He spends his time singing and dancing joyously, trying to convince people that he is just a "figment of their imaginations." He has a mischevous streak, though nothing outright malicious; he enjoys making himself known at inopporitune times and acting like the resident poltergeist.
History: Aharah loved the choir, and spent much of his time in Heaven doing nothing but singing and floating about. He has come down to Earth on several occasions, where he did the exact same thing as in Heaven, when he's not busy working, that is. He spent every single day without thought as to the next (after all, what is a schedule to someone who's immortal?) and he got where he is at this point seemingly by coincidence. Now he's in London, though if it's for anything important, one couldn't tell by looking at him.
Powers/Training/Experience/weaknesses: Aharah enjoys using his teleportation powers to no end, especially to appear behind people and happily pursue them. In addition, he has the ability to fly and is stronger than his puny body would suggest. He is, however, reluctant to use the Word of God to control people, and avoids using it whenever possible.
Family/Ties: Aside from God and the Choir, Aharah has no real ties to anybody. He passes through the world anonymous, and forgets people as easily as he meets them. He may have made many human friends, but he would be unable to recognize any of them if he saw them.
RP Sample: The man yelped as the rope supporting him snapped in two and sent him falling to the ground. He grabbed the other end in disbelief and looked up at the cieling, rubbing his throat ruefully. "Piece of shit rope." He muttered, and a voice answered:
"I don't think the rope's the problem." Aharah whistled in fake innocence and made a show to hide the kitchen knife behind his back.
The man spluttered, tearing the noose off of his neck and staring at Aharah. "Who the hell are you? How'd you get in?"
Aharah fingered the lock on the front door absently, turning it from locked to unlocked. "Me? I'm just a figment of your stressed subconscious. How else could I walk through a locked door unless I was otherwise."
"Bull shit!" The man pointed an angry finger. "You cut the rope! A figment couldn't do that!"
"How do you know the rope didn't do that by itself?" Aharah paused, then laughed pleasantly. "Fine you've caught me. I'm what's known as an Angel down in this dimension."
"Bullshit!"
Aharah wasn't affected in the least, just smiled wider as he walked to the table and picked up a family portrait. "You're right. If I was a real angel, I probably would have done something more... miraculous. Something like coming to your ex-wife and telling her secretly that you were about to kill yourself. But I couldn't possibly do that, could I?"
Suddenly a woman came bursting through the now-unlocked door. "Geoffery?"
The man named Geoffery yelped, looked to his ex-wife, and then back to the table. The portrait had been replaced, and the angel was gone, but there was still a mark in the dust where his thumb was.
Species: Angel (Throne)
Age, Gender: Asexual, and without age.
Description: Aharah is an average-height, willowy man with pale blond, almost silvery hair and light brown eyes. Frustrating his lack of musculature is his penchant for wearing breezy and loose clothing. When in human form (and thus cut off from the choir robes he loves so much), he usually wears modern clothing that are a few sizes too big for him; short-sleeve shirts that he wears like long-sleeves, pants frayed from having been constantly stepped on, ballcaps hanging haphazardly on his head, et cetera.
Personality: Aharah has always had the vexing habit of taking absolutely nothing seriously. He loves playing guardian angel, but acts as though it were just some manner of game. He spends his time singing and dancing joyously, trying to convince people that he is just a "figment of their imaginations." He has a mischevous streak, though nothing outright malicious; he enjoys making himself known at inopporitune times and acting like the resident poltergeist.
History: Aharah loved the choir, and spent much of his time in Heaven doing nothing but singing and floating about. He has come down to Earth on several occasions, where he did the exact same thing as in Heaven, when he's not busy working, that is. He spent every single day without thought as to the next (after all, what is a schedule to someone who's immortal?) and he got where he is at this point seemingly by coincidence. Now he's in London, though if it's for anything important, one couldn't tell by looking at him.
Powers/Training/Experience/weaknesses: Aharah enjoys using his teleportation powers to no end, especially to appear behind people and happily pursue them. In addition, he has the ability to fly and is stronger than his puny body would suggest. He is, however, reluctant to use the Word of God to control people, and avoids using it whenever possible.
Family/Ties: Aside from God and the Choir, Aharah has no real ties to anybody. He passes through the world anonymous, and forgets people as easily as he meets them. He may have made many human friends, but he would be unable to recognize any of them if he saw them.
RP Sample: The man yelped as the rope supporting him snapped in two and sent him falling to the ground. He grabbed the other end in disbelief and looked up at the cieling, rubbing his throat ruefully. "Piece of shit rope." He muttered, and a voice answered:
"I don't think the rope's the problem." Aharah whistled in fake innocence and made a show to hide the kitchen knife behind his back.
The man spluttered, tearing the noose off of his neck and staring at Aharah. "Who the hell are you? How'd you get in?"
Aharah fingered the lock on the front door absently, turning it from locked to unlocked. "Me? I'm just a figment of your stressed subconscious. How else could I walk through a locked door unless I was otherwise."
"Bull shit!" The man pointed an angry finger. "You cut the rope! A figment couldn't do that!"
"How do you know the rope didn't do that by itself?" Aharah paused, then laughed pleasantly. "Fine you've caught me. I'm what's known as an Angel down in this dimension."
"Bullshit!"
Aharah wasn't affected in the least, just smiled wider as he walked to the table and picked up a family portrait. "You're right. If I was a real angel, I probably would have done something more... miraculous. Something like coming to your ex-wife and telling her secretly that you were about to kill yourself. But I couldn't possibly do that, could I?"
Suddenly a woman came bursting through the now-unlocked door. "Geoffery?"
The man named Geoffery yelped, looked to his ex-wife, and then back to the table. The portrait had been replaced, and the angel was gone, but there was still a mark in the dust where his thumb was.
