| Subject: Set Two of God Knows How Many |
Author:
Ira & Ria
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Date Posted: 23:00:39 01/30/07 Tue
Character Registration/Application:
Name : Ria & Ira
Gender : Male and Female
Apparent Age : 16
Actual Age : 16
Birthday : May 22nd
Species : Human, with magical abilities. He posses a sort of super-human strength, when pushed to his limit. She has healing powers that really only work on her (think Wolverine from X-Men).
Lineage :
- Paternal : Their father, Theirn, was a fourth generation slave who had been mainly manual labor, but a good enough amateur fighter to breed in hopes of gaining his build in his children.
- Maternal : Their mother, Aurélie, had been orphaned in Paris upon birth, and taken from an orphanage into the slave system at the age of six. She was known for her beauty from an early age, and it was quickly realized she possessed magical blood. She had visions of the future that always came at extremely opportune times for her, and she had a strange ability to just “make things happen” even if she didn’t mean them to.
Eye Color : Gray
Hair Color : Gray
Ethnicity : Caucasian
Known Defects/Scars/Ect : Nothing particularly noticeable. He’s got some scars that pop out of his hands and muscles when he she strains, all from fights. She, due to her healing powers, has none.
Physical Description: He stands at 6’1” while she is level with his chest. He has a very square build, once rippling with well-formed muscles, a solid block against all odds. She, on the other hand, is rounded and seems to be made of nothing but fluidity. They both wear matching gray eyes, and short gray hair. They are both barefoot, with torn black canvas pants. He never wears a shirt, and she is always limited to a black strapless bra around her relatively flat chest. Their most prominent feature are the red leather bindings that strap around their right wrists and ankles. The between can be adjusted as needed, but no one since they have been put on have been able to disconnect them.
Mentality : They do not laugh, although they share a secret smile between them. They don’t know a better life to wish for it, yet they both dream similar dreams of what they wish they weren’t. Usually taken to be very serious, they don’t take any unneeded risks or dare to take time away from improving their best. While he has a talent for being “the strong silent type,” she makes up for it with fluid poetic speech enough for both of them. This often marks the way they react to situations, as well, one of the few times they seem to be separate at all.
Training : Recognized from birth as prime for the pits, they have been trained, groomed and conditioned for the pits their entire lives. Serena was very proud of them, and was always seeking the best trainers to teach them. They often quickly excelled beyond the range of a trainer within just a couple of months, staking up quite the list of names.
Talents : Their main talent is their ability to work together flawlessly. They think, move, and fight as a single being.
Job(s)/Position(s) : Fighters, ranking in the top three of all boards under Pairs.
Former Owners : They were born to Serena, and spent their entire lives under her.
History/Past:
To Be Sold To : Dorjan
Introduction/Sale:
Perfectly matched, a prize team if they were horses. Except of course, when she stood straight up, she leaned her head against his bare chest. They were tied to each other – literally with red leather bindings, but also in soul and spirit. Every day brother and sister fought hand-in-hand red leather bindings stretching eight long feet, so near the top in pair pit fighting. Every night sister and brother scared a single bunk red leather bindings six short inches, she cries them to sleep in lieu of bedtime prayers.
Ria, gray hair, gray eyes, bronzed muscles. Ira, gray hair, gray eyes, quicksilver joints. He shirtless, she strapless. Torn black pants, red leather bindings. Both with nothing more than those red leather bindings keeping them within their own heads. She talked about just going crazy one day, singing songs till she ran out of voice and died. He reminded her that she didn’t know any songs.
“But, dear Brother, I do. I know the song of the wind, the song of the sand, the song of the air as I defy the wind in a movement to hold back my hair. I know the song that your fists sing, the song that my legs move to, the song of winning, the song of Death. I know enough songs for the both of us, so come sing with me.”
He fell silent, his own song in a way. For here they were at the door. The big heavy metal door letting light shaft in around the edges. This door would open to a roaring crowd, a blood-hungry crowd, a crowd betting on a fight to the death - and they would sing their songs. Perhaps she was already crazy…
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