Chaos is known as the being that never became a star. It is everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time.
Neither good nor evil, the ultimate expression of nothingness. The antithesis of the cosmos, creation itself.
Although Chaos claims to be the very state of existence from which the first entities appeared, it cannot form into the entity it wants most.
So it has been cursed to stay in the form of a dark and shapeless void. Floating between existence and nonexistence.
Longingly watching as stars are constantly born and lives are lived. The seeds of malice had been planted, flourished and transformed Chaos into the purest form of evil.
Mikhail blinked when the woman switched from English to Russian, and rather fluent Russian at that. He hadn't expected anyone in this city to be able to speak it, even if it was unlikely that no one could, much less the first person he actually met. Still, he was rather quick to wipe any surprise from his face, refusing to him any kind of weakness this soon after entering Paris. "Russia, and I'm free to stare at whatever I want."
In response to her next words, there was a quick snort. "Well, aren't you nosey, and a bit demanding." He shot back at her, leaning back into the chair that had been offered to him. Of course he was traveling, he clearly had all his luggage with him, it would take a blind idiot to not see. But he doubted that someone who out right demanding why he was traveling would simply let him walk away without answering, so he supposed a half trust was better than nothing.
"I ran away from my foster family, didn't feel like sticking around after that." His eyes scanned across her again, quickly putting together pieces of a puzzle within his mind. "Your family must have a bit of money no? Because that would explain the nice clothes and bitchy attitude." There were few things in the world that could get on his nerves quicker than some rich prick who thought they could look down on him just because of their money, and she seemed to fit that little description near perfectly.
He had only arrived in the city of Pairs around an hour ago, give or take a few minutes, and the white haired Russian found the city immensely annoying. Already warmer than he personally liked, and filled with people who he could barely understand talking. But, he had to admit, at least no one here knew who he was, and that meant no one here was looking to try and knife him in some random alley way. So, perhaps, not that bad after all. Either way, it was where he was going to be living for the foreseeable future, so he had best get used to it.
Golden eyes drifted towards the nearby storefronts, a bag of luggage rolling behind the male, a second, smaller, bag hanging across his back. A cafe? Well, he could certainly use some coffee after that long ass train trip, even if he had spent most of it simply asleep.
Approaching the counter, the Russian male spoke in chipped English, clearly unused to the language and with a heavy accent as he spoke to the man at the counter. "Coffee, black." He requested, waiting for a moment before grabbing it, taking himself and all his luggage towards a table not far from another woman who was visiting the same shop. Glancing over to one of the few other people who were around, his eyes scanned across the title of the book she was reading, something akin to a scoff coming out before he took another sip of his drink.
RANK: ★☆☆☆☆ [break] CLASS: Corrupted [break] [break] SP. SKILL: [ BLIZZARD BREATH ] — Because it sounds much more fearsome than frost breath. By harnessing the frigid source of your corruption into your mouth, you are capable of expelling a translucent blue mist from your maw that is capable of freezing and encasing objects in a layer of ice that it comes in contact with. Lucky for you, the blizzard breath must be willed to be active, so no worries about accidental freezing after sneezing. When it comes to freezing objects, however, there are a few catches. Inanimate objects can be frozen with ease. The smaller and thinner the object, the quicker the frost will develop. The larger and thicker, the object, the longer it will take. When it comes to organic objects, it's a tad different. Organic objects that come in contact with your Blizzard Breath must maintain a prolonged exposure to it before effects begin. They are incapable of being completely frozen, but you can strike them with a wicked case frostbite! The downside? Wind can redirect your blizzard breath's trajectory. Immense heat can thaw or melt frozen objects as well. And finally... you have one helluva runny nose. Keep some tissues handy!
INVENTORY
— Staff touches this part too, no touchy —
WEAPONRY
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NAME: Frostbite [break] CLASS: D[break] DESCRIPTION: Frostbite is a bit unusually, as far as most weapons go. The blade itself is made out of a dark blue ice, nearly opaque but not fully. While this does lend the blade a bit of a chill around its edge, its true power isn't in the cold itself, but in its malleability. The blade itself can shift its own form, going from a long sword to a dagger to even a spear. However, this same malleability is its own downfall, the blade itself is a bit fragile in its current state, a strong enough blow able to shatter or otherwise break it. While it will eventually reform itself after breaking, it still requires time to do so [3 posts per break][break]
TRANSFORMATION
APPEARANCE: Describe your transformation. An image(s) is/are most certainly welcomed as well.
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TIRO FINALE: name your ability?[break] DESCRIPTION: describe your ability.[break]
ABILITIES
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NAME: Frost Guard[break] CLASS: D[break] DESCRIPTION: Utilizing his new found magic powers, Mikhail lowers the temperature around his body, causing a small layer of ice to spread across his skin and clothing, acting as a form of armor against attacks. This ice, while empowered by magic, is still thin, both out of inexperience and in order to still allow proper movements around his joints.[break]
Mikhail does not remember a lot of his early life, a good majority of it a hazy blur. His parents, whoever they had been, had either died when Mikhail was young, or simply abandoned the boy on the streets of St. Petersburg. Most of his early life was spent drifting, from foster home to foster home, in and out of local orphanages when he caused too much trouble for whatever family had picked him up recently. It took a toll on Mikhail, each family making him more and more bitter, a cycle he finally decided to break when, at the age of 14, he packed up what few belongings he had and ran away, in the cold night. [break] During the next few months afterwards, Mikhail lived as a street rat, stealing what he could get his hands on, be it food to eat or money to buy the necessities of life. Far from the easiest life in the world, but there was something about it the young teen found...enjoyable. Perhaps it was simply the thrill of finally having the ability to make his own damned decisions in his life, or it was simply the thrill of getting away with something that wasn't his. The reason didn't matter to Mikhail. [break] [break] Nearly a full year later, after his 15th birthday, when life took another turn for Mikhail. It was one of his targets, a man in a fancy car, wearing a fancy suit, surely he must have a fancy wallet filled with cash. It was an easy score, something he had done at least a dozen times before, a classic even. Accidentally bump into the man, lifting the money from him in the confusion, then scamper off before anyone noticed what had really happened. The only problem was the man he had picked, a man known as Damian Orlev, a powerful local crime boss. A hand snatched his arm, dragging out a fist clutching a wallet, the large man staring down at the white haired teen. [break] [break] Perhaps, on any other day, this insult might've lead to the teen's death, but on this day Damian had been looking for someone like Mikhail. He had a package that needed to be delivered, one that the local police would be on the lookout for, and most of his men would be recognized before they could finish the delivery. Thus Mikhail was given a simple option, delivery the package for Damian, or end up dead in a ditch somewhere. [break] [break] The response came in record time, the package taking only slightly longer. Mikhail never did find out what was in the package, but it did start up an interesting relationship with Damian, the boss seeming to take the former street rat under his wing, and his employment. In many ways, his life didn't change much from this, he still took things that didn't technically belong to him, but now he was guaranteed to never sleep on an empty stomach. [break] [break] This lasted for a few years, nearly four of them to be exact, until Damian had managed to piss off the wrong man in a business deal gone horribly wrong. Their compound was attacked, raided, nearly all the crew ending up dead, all save Mikhail himself. But, in what should've been the last minutes of his life, there was a...voice. It could save him, give him the power to fight against those who were trying to kill him. Well, it was the second easiest choice he had made in his life. [break] [break] A few weeks later, needing to leave town from both retaliation from the rest of the rival bosses who would come to fill in the void in power left by Damian, and to avoid any police that would investigate now that their 'donations' had dried up, Mikhail boarded a train heading west, for Paris. [break][break]
The skin LIGHTS OFF was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
HALATION was created by KOJIHIME. Images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders. Please DO NOT take anything without the owners' permission.
