Post by Patience Wurth on Dec 26, 2007 1:01:23 GMT -5
Kaelyn Patience Wurth
________________________________
Sometimes is never quite enough
If you're flawless, then you'll win my love
Don't forget to win first place
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face
________________________________
Sometimes is never quite enough
If you're flawless, then you'll win my love
Don't forget to win first place
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face
{ A Witch is born
Name: Kaelyn Patience Wurth
Nickname: None, but she goes by Patience rather than Kaelyn
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Good or Evil: Good
Canon or original: Original
Face Claim: Missy Peregrym
{ Who you are
Hair: Dark Brown, long and usually curly, with very few bangs.
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Tan
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 130 lbs
Scars: None
Birthmarks: A Tirquerta on the inside of her right wrist. Most people believe that it’s a tattoo, but she was born with it.
Piercings: One in each ear.
Tattoos: None
Other: Not much really.
{ Who you have become
Likes:
Dislikes:
Goals:
Fears:
Personality:
Patience is very different from her sister. Where Kendall was always a bit on the wild side and constantly up to something she most likely shouldn’t be, Patience was always a little withdrawn from the group. Even around the family she tended to be the quiet one not quite willing to participate in whatever the family wanted to do.
She has never been comfortable within a crowd. Almost like she was afraid of getting lost in it. Even when the crowd was her own family. And she has never really had a strong connection with anybody, in the family or not. Rather she kept everything to herself. Not a single person on the planet has ever actually known exactly what Patience was feeling at any given time. Not even her twin sister.
Upon first meeting Patience, the most common perception is icy calm. As she doesn’t truly feel anything. And she always looks absolutely perfect, no matter what is going on around her. She is very anal retentive like that. And she is extremely obsessive compulsive about a lot of things in her life.
{ How you came to be
Parents: Margaret and John Wurth
Siblings: Kendall Wurth (Twin sister)
Other: a huge extended family. I will list important ones:
Great Grandmother : Meredith Claires
Grandmother : Joy Claires
Pets: None
History:
Patience grew up Kaelyn Wurth. A young girl in a loving family with a twin sister, Kendall Wurth. Their extended family was huge, and the entire family enjoyed frequent get togethers. She was lucky growing up. Or so others told her. She had never really been happy as a child. Not exactly depressed, just not happy. She didn’t like being in a crowd, even if that crowd was family. Though none of them knew it. She always kept a smile pasted on her face. Always participated in the family functions that she detested going to. At least she did until she was sixteen.
The Wurth family was different than most families. First of all, they were practicing Wiccans. A family legend claimed that they had once had actual powers, though no one had had any for three generations. And that these powers would one day return to their rightful place. Patience had never truly believed these stories, but she had always gone along with it when the story was being told, pretending that she was excited about the possibility of powers.
The teenage years were the hardest on Patience. Her sister, younger than her by mere minutes, seemed to think that she wasn’t any good. She started sinking into a world controlled by drugs, alcohol, sex, and attention. Regardless of what Kendall may have thought, Patience wasn’t the golden child everyone thought she was. They were simply too caught up in Kendall’s troubles to notice just how distant Patience was getting from them. Just how lost she was. Not until she was gone.
To put it simply, she ran away. Well, not so much ran away, as went to college without telling anyway, and without leaving a forwarding address. While her family was occupying itself with Kendall barely passing school, Patience had gained enough credits to graduate a full year and a half early, and getting into college with her grades had been easy. She simply didn’t let anybody know what was going on and disappeared from the crowd. What was one less in such a crowd anyway.
She started to use her middle name, and simply went on with her life as if nothing had changed, expect she never showed up to family functions, and never called anybody in the family. She cut herself off. And she honestly has no idea if anybody has even bothered to look for her as she never even left the city and she has yet to see a single family member.
And then the unthinkable happened, her powers appeared. According to a book she had found after her first incident with her powers, it was recorded that a feud between mother and daughter had happened three generations ago. Her own grandmother had tried to kill her mother. To punish her, her mother had sealed away the family powers, not to return until the death of her daughter. And so it was. Not a week after her grandmother passed, Patience found she now had powers.
Discovering her powers, though, almost sent her crawling back to her family. Even though she had been a practicing wiccan since she was a small child, being wiccan, and having powers were two completely different things. But she managed to gain control of her powers without having to return to the family she had deserted. And she even, sometimes, vanquished a few demons. Only when she absolutely had to, though. She doesn’t seek them out.
Currently she is living in an apartment going to college and working as a lounge singer in a small club not too far from her apartment. It gets her enough money to keep her in the apartment and with food. Her student loans cover everything else.
{ Behind the Magic
Name: Danni
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Experience: Lots. At least five years. Probably more. I’ve pretty much lost count.
Ways to contact you: pm is fine
How you found us: an advertisement…I think on Cruel Poison
the admin loves: sure do
Character Title: Fallen Angel
Rp Sample:
The snow drifting down and covering the desolate landscape that was the graveyard clung to the dark curls that hung around her face. The white flakes closest to the heat of her body melted, leaving her hair cold and wet, clinging to her face, but she made no move to wipe it away. Truth be told she didn't even notice her surroundings. Not the snow crunching softly under her moving feet. Crumbling gravestones covered with a thin veil of glistening white snow. Not the magnificent Stag that made had made it's presence known. And not the darkly clad figure that was the only other person insane enough to be out in the cold on this night. No, she saw nothing as she continued on her path.
This was it, the day exactly. Practically to the minute. That was when she came here. Every single year. She supposed it was a sort of morbid tradition of hers. And no matter how many years past, it still felt the same as if it had happened only the day before. And yet not a single tear graced her cheek. She had cried herself dry years before. Crying so hard she had literally made herself sick. The very thing that had changed her life so drastically. That was what brought her here year after year. The reminder that there was reasons she lived her life the way she did. Reasons why she could never let anybody close ever again.
The grave she stopped in front of was, at one point, a richly engraved tombstone. By now, though, the words had been worn away to barely anything. A human passing the grave would assume it was just some person who lived years before who would never again have visitors. Why visit a dead person whom you had never met, after all. But this grave, and the one next to it, were extremely important to the young girl now standing in front of them. Not heeding the cold that was the ground she dropped down to her knees, her hand reaching out of it's own accord and tracing the name. Kamil Belacqua. Then they slid down and traced the words underneath. Beloved Father. The very daughter who had chosen those words let out a sigh as her hand dropped away. Sabriel was her name, and her dearest father had died more than one hundred years before hand.
Sabriel's eyes slid slowly to the gravestone next to this one. It was even more faded than the one before. But the name could still be read. Sahirah Belacqua. Beloved Mother and Wife. We will miss you greatly. The stone was engraved with the image of roses. Her favorite flower. Sabriel barely remembered her, she had died so many years before. And she had still been human at that point, having not reached eighteen yet. But she knew that she looked like her. Her gaze lowered away from that tomb as well and she laid the flowers currently occupying her arms on the ground between the two gravestones. She completely ignored the other two gravestones, each engraved with the name of one of her brothers. They were still alive. At least, as far as she knew they were. Her father had erected these stones the day he had proclaimed his sons dead to him. She never brought them flowers. Even if they were truly dead, she would never respect them like that. She truly believed that it was their fault their parents had died so early in their long lives.
The sound of a flute playing made her blink as she pulled her arms back to her sides. She was rather confused for a moment, after all, why would a flute be playing in a graveyard at night? It made no real sense. She looked over in the direction the sound was coming from, and was startled to see another figure sitting in the graveyard. She should have been startled. Perhaps she should have left, he most likely wanted to be alone after all. But she somehow couldn't make herself leave. The music flowing gracefully from the metal instrument was more graceful than the snow falling gently to the ground. It sounded so sad. Her eyes closed as the music seemed to dance around her. It suited her state of mind so perfectly that a single perfect tear formed under a dark eyelash and made a trail down the slightly colored cheek until it hit rose colored lips and stopped.
This was it, the day exactly. Practically to the minute. That was when she came here. Every single year. She supposed it was a sort of morbid tradition of hers. And no matter how many years past, it still felt the same as if it had happened only the day before. And yet not a single tear graced her cheek. She had cried herself dry years before. Crying so hard she had literally made herself sick. The very thing that had changed her life so drastically. That was what brought her here year after year. The reminder that there was reasons she lived her life the way she did. Reasons why she could never let anybody close ever again.
The grave she stopped in front of was, at one point, a richly engraved tombstone. By now, though, the words had been worn away to barely anything. A human passing the grave would assume it was just some person who lived years before who would never again have visitors. Why visit a dead person whom you had never met, after all. But this grave, and the one next to it, were extremely important to the young girl now standing in front of them. Not heeding the cold that was the ground she dropped down to her knees, her hand reaching out of it's own accord and tracing the name. Kamil Belacqua. Then they slid down and traced the words underneath. Beloved Father. The very daughter who had chosen those words let out a sigh as her hand dropped away. Sabriel was her name, and her dearest father had died more than one hundred years before hand.
Sabriel's eyes slid slowly to the gravestone next to this one. It was even more faded than the one before. But the name could still be read. Sahirah Belacqua. Beloved Mother and Wife. We will miss you greatly. The stone was engraved with the image of roses. Her favorite flower. Sabriel barely remembered her, she had died so many years before. And she had still been human at that point, having not reached eighteen yet. But she knew that she looked like her. Her gaze lowered away from that tomb as well and she laid the flowers currently occupying her arms on the ground between the two gravestones. She completely ignored the other two gravestones, each engraved with the name of one of her brothers. They were still alive. At least, as far as she knew they were. Her father had erected these stones the day he had proclaimed his sons dead to him. She never brought them flowers. Even if they were truly dead, she would never respect them like that. She truly believed that it was their fault their parents had died so early in their long lives.
The sound of a flute playing made her blink as she pulled her arms back to her sides. She was rather confused for a moment, after all, why would a flute be playing in a graveyard at night? It made no real sense. She looked over in the direction the sound was coming from, and was startled to see another figure sitting in the graveyard. She should have been startled. Perhaps she should have left, he most likely wanted to be alone after all. But she somehow couldn't make herself leave. The music flowing gracefully from the metal instrument was more graceful than the snow falling gently to the ground. It sounded so sad. Her eyes closed as the music seemed to dance around her. It suited her state of mind so perfectly that a single perfect tear formed under a dark eyelash and made a trail down the slightly colored cheek until it hit rose colored lips and stopped.
