:.Marcelli.:.:Phote.:{Wanderer}
Nov 23, 2010 16:57:45 GMT -5
Post by peanutpie on Nov 23, 2010 16:57:45 GMT -5
She has been a'wandering for a while now, its true. For two years of her nineteen.
[/color]Unruly blonde hair. Honestly, greasy, uncared for and quite uncut. Split ends, oh, trust me. The hair doesn’t seem to be very cared for, even though the texture is naturally straight. The hair is relatively thin and fair, which may be due to the greasiness of the hair.
Her skin is nothing special, fair, with burn marks scorching the hands, and face, because of the chemicals she has worked with over the year. Very noticeable little beggars, they are a bright white color to even contrast with her very fair skin. The scars vary in size from the size of a penny to a very long one that runs down the edge of her face, one she usually hides with her hair.
Her forehead is next, a rounded one with a slight hairline. Not much of one, but a rounded one. It is pretty wide for a forehead, something she finds a devious flaw in her appearance.
Her eyes are next, a muddy hazel color. Not the best looking of her attributes, her eyes are medium sized with thick, droopy eyelashes. The eyes are, obviously, nothing special to her and she regards them as more of a thing to see with and nothing more. She thinks they don't add to her appearance.
Her nose is next, a long, yet thin, nose. It is simply a nose, in all respects. The front is flatter than rounded and it is somewhat a thin, pear shape. It is a decent enough nose, especially in the light of the trees, but it doesn’t seem to be the best in other lightings.
Her mouth is rather... small. Small lips, in fact. A salmon color, those lips are. Sure, they may be curved in a decent way. A cupids arrow may sit on the top of the lip, yet, it is still, a small lip.
Her chin is small, a bit clefted and pointy. Not horridly, but enough to see the flaws in her chin. It definitely is not her best feature on earth.
Her body is simply... slim? I would think so. She definitely isn't beautifully muscled. She is scrawny. Yes, the word would be scrawny. She seems to not have the amount of food she needs, which is probably from living off of nothing but the plants she can scavenge.
The clothes she usually wears are pretty basic items of clothing. In the duffel bag that also carried dead bodies. A pair of jeans, a bit battered. Two shirts, and a dingy old sweatshirt she usually tosses onto herself in the evenings. Other than that, there isn't much else she wears, aside from the boots that she wears. Oh, a pair of white socks, but nothing more than that.
Show me the dead bodies.
It makes no sense whatsoever, but, when your hired to kill someone, yes, it makes plenty sense. It makes sense that the dead body is probably somewhere inside the zipper duffel bag that has been passed through generations of a family, where she stores her clothing items.So, have you realized that Marcelli may be the only serial killer who hides her bodies in a duffel bag and then stuffs the body in the woods, amongst the brush and etcetera.
Pfft, she doesn’t kill her bodies violently. She doesn’t looks like the type to. So, she uses chemicals for her concoctions. So, due to the work of chemicals in the district she has originated from (6, mind you) she can make a deadly poison opposed to killing somebody with an automatic rifle and a case of bullets (Ehm, maybe if worst came to worst...) but still. Her murderous ways are very much more chemical than physical.
Marcelli is somewhat of an antisocial person. She doesn’t like people, which probably shows her cruel detachment from them. Hence, the killing. But, she finds adults too persnickety, children too loud, people her age too attached or detached, and honestly, the only people she truly finds tolerable is herself and whomever else is able to kill with a simple flick of the wrist.
Now, that we have undergone the basic facts of her existence, may we go into the minor details of it? Like the fact that she is able to do certain skills? Eh, lets go on anyway.
Oh, dear. Please don't make me restate something that has been simply said before. She kills. She’s cold hearted. She is simply an imbecile to the life of being. Oh, but wait. This girl is cunning. Her brain is as intelligent as you would imagine one like hers could get; something almost... photographic, perhaps.
A sharp, photographic memory that people may envy. Something coveted in her old district, she thinks of it as such a skill; something that is complex and, honestly, fairly natural to her. A keen eye for anything to have details, she is able to remember a precise thing, of value, of course.
A bit of rebelliousness lives within Marcelli's brain. Well, who else would disobey the rules of murder? OK, fine, LOTS of rebelliousness lives inside this mind. But, she isn't quite the die-hard rebel that some people imagine everyone with lots of rebellious spirit has. She doesn’t hate the capitol. She doesn’t 10 have some type of grudge towards them. She just simply disobeys their rules. It is as simple as it gets, in writing, at least.
Of course, she has to be good with plants or animals, because how else would she survive in her wandering-type of world? Well, she is best with plants, since she knows which plant oils are good for killing, eating, or healing. She is able to do this because of the things her Father told her as a child.
Her Father is indeed, a serial killer.
I guess you would consider Marcelli an honest person. If you were to ask her if she killed the person on the ground, she'd nod and explain how and why she killed the person who is now laying in a dead state on the linoleum tile flooring. She won't lie, which doesn’t seem to be the best thing with her... ehm, background, but I guess honesty is the best policy?
So, another thing that might be of interest to you, about this particular young adult could be the fact that she is pretty much unable to cook; at all. She is completely and utterly unable to have any domestic arts functions going on at one time. Sewing, cooking, anything that involves stability of clothing or cooking is completely out of the picture for her. So, she eats berries.
Though, her voice is beautiful. She can sing well, clearly into the forest that surronds her. A clear, ringing voice of sorts. A clean, soft, alto voice that echoes as she walks though the forest. It seems to be a most suprising voice.
Insomnia. Sometimes, people may wonder why her bitter mood rests the way it is. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, it could be because of the little, if any sleep she is able to get.
Creativity? Please. She could be the least creative person on earth; she prefers to stick to tactical techniques, ones that are tried and true. This is why she prefers math and science over anything that involves actual creative thought.
This being true, you would think that her mind is top-notch in the scientific and mathematical field. And that would be a correct inference. She is able to calculate things quickly. It seems almost eerie, paired with the memory that is so... acute
She is good with her speech. She can make words come out easily, picking the words she is supposted to in the most careful manner, thus, creating a something of a weaving of tales. A good imagination, no, a great choosing of words and a wide vocabulary? Yes, indeed.
Well, I guess lets start three generations before Marcellis. A big crime boom in district 6, similar in pattern to todays. Groups of people who were somewhat mentally insecure swept the premises of the district, flooding the streets with riots etcetera. But, one of the most prominent outsiders in this play was Frieno Phote, a man of short disposition and a talent for killing people. They called him "The Hitman" Why the hitman? Because he was the killer of the people, taking care of the people that needed to be taken care of in a swipe of a hand.
The war between the peacekeepers and all the district dwellers soon faded, and Frieno got married and had a family. Lolita, Donny, Hasse and Poler.
Poler soon grew up and got married, following in his fathers serial killer footsteps. Of course, the years weren't as busy as his Fathers prime was in, but it was there, and he was able to make something of a living killing people and working in a chemical shop. When he was asked to kill someone by another person, he would recieve a wad of money and a nod, and he would kill the chosen suspect.
Then, Marcelli was born. A girl, yes, but someone to pass on the tradition too? Just in case of dark times. Her Father had thought as he saw Marcelli laying there. In case of dark times, she would be trained to kill other residents of a district.
I would guess to say the toddler years of her life were fairly repetitive. She would wake up, go around and do whatever she would need to do.
But, the day Marcelli turned twelve; oh that was a momentous event. It changed everything in her eyes.
Her Father brought out the thick, sturdy, gloves and put them on Marcellis hands. "Now, dear, this is called protection gloves. I assume you wouldn't kill with a glove, but I think that this would suit you just fine." He then took out a small vile of many chemicals, and placed them one by one on the countertop of the laboratory.
Marcelli soon learned which chemicals did which things. By the age of fourteen, she was able to single handedly make a chemical formula to kill someone. An ingestible one, yes, but it was hard working with smoke and fumes, so she had to settle for being decent at ingestible liquids.
The two years following, she was able to use fumes as a component in her killings. Yet, she hadn't killed anybody yet.
When she turned sixteen, her Father handed over one of the most valuable items she could covet: The piece of paper that served as the family tree; the one with her deceased Grandfathers name on it. The one with the sprawling branches curved onto it, turning themselves into, finally, a small replication of her name. The family heirloom that probably was the most important material possession to Marcelli.
Oh, but I must tell you. Her first killing came a month after she received the family tree, with the serial killers names on it. She spiked someone’s drink with a deadly chemical found in a mutated plant a venus Ivy, a hybrid of a venus flytrap and an ivy plant. She had killed the person her Father had chosen for her, practice, of course; just throwing the vile down in there when he was looking away. It was a clear liquid, so it dissapeared into the coffee quickly.
But they found out; the peacekeepers, yes. So, Marcelli decided to do something daring; something completely and utterly surprising. She ran away into the woods surrounding the district. And she never returned.
Codeword: odair
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