Post by MistahJ on Jun 23, 2019 23:32:48 GMT 9.5
CIRCE LUCCIA KYLAN
"Will you control that power? Or let it control you?"
-Basics-
Birth Name: Circe Luccia Kylan
Preferred Name: Kyla
Title: The Phoenix
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 21
DoB: 480 BC
Starsign: Unknown
Blessed By: Hades God of the Underworld
Blessed By: Hades God of the Underworld
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: Greek
Species: Witch
Occupation: Unemployed
-Appearance-
Faceclaim: Alexandra Breckenridge
Accent/Dialect: American
Languages Spoken: Ancient Greek, Greek, Latin, Italian, Aramaic
Height | Weight: 5 ft 7 in | 57 kg
Relevant Features: Blood so hot it's acid like
-Personality-
Personality: She is naturally a very nice girl. Very loving, very accepting, hates being left out. She is very caring in general, and is the person to drop everything to help someone. But when out of control, she can and will hurt anyone know matter who you are. But you can't blame her for it, for she has no control of it.
Religion: Greek Mythos
Political Beliefs: Nil
Mental Health: Unstable
Likes: Nature, the Arts
Dislikes: Her power
Phobias: No Control
-Relations-
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Partner: None
Compatible with: Unknown
Incompatible with: Unknown
-Species Mutation-
Witch infused with the blood of a Phoenix and Hellfire.
The Way Apocalypse disintegrates is similar to how she just wipes people out.
-Family-
Parents:
Mother- Medea | Deceased
Father- Unknown | Deceased
Father- Unknown | Deceased
Siblings:
N/A
Grandparents:
N/A
Cousins :
N/A
Aunts/Uncles:
N/A
Nieces/Nephews:
N/A
Children:
N/A
Grandchildren:
N/A
Important People:
N/A
-Themes-
-History-
Birth
The border of Macedonia and Thessaly the year 480 BC. In the midst of the war against Persia, a great storm swept over the Grecian islands. A storm that still could not silence the wales of a soon to be mother. At the base of Mount Olympus, a temple sat, mostly in the silence, except for the witches who occupied the space, with their incense and magic. A woman lay in the temple, her belly grown to the size of a large watermelon, baring a babe that in this moment caused her immense pain. Each contraction left her dazed, incomplete, trickles of blood fell between her legs and sweat dripped from every pore in her body. The witches prayed, to the gods, Zeus, Poseidon, even Hades to spare the mother and her child, the coven in unison in holy prayer as the mid-wives took care of the birth.
A crack of thunder and a strike of lightening interrupted their prayer, Zeus did not care for neither, the rain swept in and Poseidon’s reply across the waters left them with nothing.
The mother’s veins darkened, her blood cells committing suicide in the midst of the hellish storm, as if the baby she bore was nothing but poison to her womb. The midwives sang prayer, witches were rushed inside to cast spells upon the mother and her birthing babe to keep them both alive during the entire process.
Once the baby crowned, the midwives rushed to the mother, who screamed so loud her voice cracked, her vocal chords hanging onto thread as the baby’s head, the babies shoulders then the babies entire body slid out from between her legs, followed by blood.
The blood was nothing but a spiral of red and black, clots littered the birthing bed, and the temple silence, nothing but a babe’s cries filled the halls.
That was not the end. The baby’s cries faltered, she choked on her own voice, and still the withered mother who now held her baby began to also fade. The light from her eyes was going, and the baby’s cries faded with it. The witches had no choice.
They hurried their prayer and their practice, as they brought in a phoenix. They sliced his neck, an offering to the gods and bled him out into a vase. His blood, red hot, like embers, almost boiling and melting through the vase. The coven as one cast upon the blood, the child and the child’s mother, ignorant of the help they had received, Hades blessing, to keep the babe alive. The babe’s cry shocked some of the witches, as what looked like hellfire began to fill her veins, but the elder witches continued to chant, the blood of the phoenix they slaughtered almost jumped from the vase, landing on the dying mother and her baby, it began to evaporate into the skin of the baby, but the mother still wasted away, the babies cries grew stronger and stronger, she was almost screaming at this point. The phoenix blood travelled down the mother’s body towards the baby who stopped crying once the blood had all gone.
The witches confirmed the worst, the baby had drained, the mother of any potential to continue her life, and used it unknowingly to survive, itself. A god will had been done, and the witches prayers answered.
The child, merely an orphan, whose grandfather, the king of Sparta who had been slain at the battle of Thermopylae, child to the witches who scattered across the Grecian isle, the elders had child in wing. They had her blessed by the gods, baptised in their light, naming her singularly after one of the most powerful witches known to Grecian covens, Circe Luccia Kylan.
Early Life
The witches within the coven had a feeling Circe was quite the powerful witch. But to what extent they could not say. As a babe she was able to throw people across the room with a simple cry, and she was also able to understand what other people wanted from her as early as 12 months where she had garnered the ability to read peoples minds. This left the coven split in half, one half was excited at the power they had been given through a simple witch. The other half was terrified at how advanced she was becoming.
At 5 years old, she was only a small girl, but had wavy locks of fiery red hair which stood out in the crowd of the blond and dark haired witches around her.
After class, one day, Circe found one of her best friends, a small witch around the same age as her, dead, slaughtered by a mountain lion which had found its way into the coven’s sanction. Within seconds Circe had resurrected the girl, to almost perfection. Around the girls waking body lay poppies. As if to remember the little death that had happened, and soon thereafter a mountain lion was found dead amongst the coven’s herbal groves, tainting the soil.
This made the fear grow within the coven.
The Incident
After the minor incident as a babe, which sort broken bones of the witches Circe had thrown around when she cried, nothing much happened as she grew. It was believed she had complete control. 15 years old and she finally learnt how her mother died, how some of the coven, blamed her for her mother’s death. How she drained her mother of any chance of preservation. This upset her, and she ran out of the coven’s temples and into the forest surrounding it. Search party after search party turned up empty. But some girls found her, a small group of them, known to be the mean girls of the coven, they taunted and laughed at Circe who cried at the idea that she caused harm to someone. Something caused her eyes to glow, a fiery golden colour, different to her ocean blue eyes. She’d scream at the girls to stop, sending them back, a blast of fire came from her hands and the forest erupted into flames. Circe survived, but the girls who found her, they were swallowed by the flames, whether it was the telekinetic blast or the fire that killed them, the coven never found out. But Circe was dangerous, and locked away from the rest of the girls, she continued to receive private teachings.
Near Death Experience
It was a lonely night, when Circe heard the knob on her door twist, the lock jingle and the door swung up. She had almost stumbled, jumping out of her bed so fast, ready to hurt the person who disturbed her chambers. In stumbled a boy, someone she did not know. A blade clutched within his hand as a torch light silhouetted him from behind. It was silent as they watched each other, and Circe did not expect the man to jump at her knife over his head. She put her arm up and felt the bite of the blade across her arm, blood spilling across her clothes, her bedding, and the man’s armour. She used her magic, telekinetically pushing the guy away from her ripping the knife from his hand and bringing it to her. She watched the man, not laying a hand on him before he frantically yelped and threw his armour and shirt from his body. Circe was confused and she saw the fear in the man’s eyes. Something in her thought to let the man leave, but something else in her. Her eyes began to glow again, this man tried to kill her, and it did not sit right with her to let him live. She telekinetically slammed the door shut, lodged the knife in his throat and threw him from the window, down into the river. It was when he was gone, she noticed the burnt holes in his steel armour, his shirt, her pants and her bedding, burn marks made from her blood. The cut on her arm had almost instantly disappeared.
Repentance
In isolation Circe found herself garnering control over her powers. She found real power in what she said, and she was finally released from her isolation and allowed to live with the other witches. She was fine for years. Unaware of the mental rewiring the elder witches did to her. Something that would set Circe up for sacrifice.
The Sacrificial Lamb
The elder witches wanted Circe’s power. They wanted it to be shared amongst the coven, and the only way to do that would be to ritually sacrifice her to the gods. Circe did not know that’s what the elders wanted, and at 21 years old, at the peak of her power, she prepared herself for a very special ritual, an almost welcome back ritual for the years she had gone without an incident. But that was not the real ritual being performed, and Circe did not know that she was actually the lamb for slaughter so they could have her powers.
Death and Destruction
Circe lay upon the table in the temple, below Olympus like her mother had when giving birth to her. The chanting began and she smiled, happy to be accepted into the coven again, no longer a monster shamed for the power she had been given. When the blade was stabbed into her heart her breath stopped and her eyes watered, she looked at the elder witches, smug smiles upon their faces and cheers from the witches who waited for the power to drain from Circe and into them. Circe’s hands felt for the blade the handle on her chest, the point of it, poking out her back. She grabbed the point, the handle was glowing, like fractals of life leaking from her, she pulled the handle through her body, the blade shattering into dust as she did so and the hole within her chest healing itself.
Her eyes began to glow, the veins within her entire body following suit, like fire lived within her and she let out an earth-shattering scream, closing off all the exits. The flames in the sconces grew, catching the fabrics and lighting the temple in glorious flame. The witches screamed in fear. She looked at everyone and turned to the elders who began to try to fight back, but with a wave of her hand, they disintegrated into nothing, their lives erased from the earth, but not from the memories of their family who continued to scream.
Flames burst from Circe’s body, her arms out stretched she screamed, the flames around her body taking the form of a bird, a phoenix. Everything around her bit by bit began to disintegrate. The very matter of their skin flying from their bodies, and their bones turning to dust. They become the power, and the power became them. As the temple came crashing down, Circe’s body concaved under the weight of the power they was in her, with the destruction of the coven that sought her death, with no one to love her and to keep those alive safe from her untamed power, she let the power from within her, destroy the very matter it possessed and a huge blast that could be heard over all of the Greek world shattered the land below the mountain. Taking Circe and her people with it, before dissipating into nothing.
Resurrection
It had been a quite a couple years later, when the ashes in which the witch’s temple lay began to move. A baby’s cries could be heard within the ruins and people went in to find a baby lying naked within the ashes, a small girl left alone, assumed to be abandoned by her parents. This baby grew up, with fiery red hair and became a very strong witch. She had no complete recollection of her life prior, and she found herself re-learning and re-making her old mistakes. Again, she died, in a nuclear like blast, but still it did not end the life of the power that controlled her life.
The Present
After many resurrections, after many failures, after many murders, accidental and on purpose. Circe found herself living once more in the modern era. She walks amongst the humans. She can feel the power within her, yearning for release, but she bottled it up. Refusing to use it. She barely recollects her past lives, though she knows she’s had many. Growing tired of her ancient name, she was happy to change it to another, and soon enough Kyla, was reborn, a red headed girl, with bottled up emotions, and bottled up powers. Never sure when she will blow up, taking her own life, and those around her.
The border of Macedonia and Thessaly the year 480 BC. In the midst of the war against Persia, a great storm swept over the Grecian islands. A storm that still could not silence the wales of a soon to be mother. At the base of Mount Olympus, a temple sat, mostly in the silence, except for the witches who occupied the space, with their incense and magic. A woman lay in the temple, her belly grown to the size of a large watermelon, baring a babe that in this moment caused her immense pain. Each contraction left her dazed, incomplete, trickles of blood fell between her legs and sweat dripped from every pore in her body. The witches prayed, to the gods, Zeus, Poseidon, even Hades to spare the mother and her child, the coven in unison in holy prayer as the mid-wives took care of the birth.
A crack of thunder and a strike of lightening interrupted their prayer, Zeus did not care for neither, the rain swept in and Poseidon’s reply across the waters left them with nothing.
The mother’s veins darkened, her blood cells committing suicide in the midst of the hellish storm, as if the baby she bore was nothing but poison to her womb. The midwives sang prayer, witches were rushed inside to cast spells upon the mother and her birthing babe to keep them both alive during the entire process.
Once the baby crowned, the midwives rushed to the mother, who screamed so loud her voice cracked, her vocal chords hanging onto thread as the baby’s head, the babies shoulders then the babies entire body slid out from between her legs, followed by blood.
The blood was nothing but a spiral of red and black, clots littered the birthing bed, and the temple silence, nothing but a babe’s cries filled the halls.
That was not the end. The baby’s cries faltered, she choked on her own voice, and still the withered mother who now held her baby began to also fade. The light from her eyes was going, and the baby’s cries faded with it. The witches had no choice.
They hurried their prayer and their practice, as they brought in a phoenix. They sliced his neck, an offering to the gods and bled him out into a vase. His blood, red hot, like embers, almost boiling and melting through the vase. The coven as one cast upon the blood, the child and the child’s mother, ignorant of the help they had received, Hades blessing, to keep the babe alive. The babe’s cry shocked some of the witches, as what looked like hellfire began to fill her veins, but the elder witches continued to chant, the blood of the phoenix they slaughtered almost jumped from the vase, landing on the dying mother and her baby, it began to evaporate into the skin of the baby, but the mother still wasted away, the babies cries grew stronger and stronger, she was almost screaming at this point. The phoenix blood travelled down the mother’s body towards the baby who stopped crying once the blood had all gone.
The witches confirmed the worst, the baby had drained, the mother of any potential to continue her life, and used it unknowingly to survive, itself. A god will had been done, and the witches prayers answered.
The child, merely an orphan, whose grandfather, the king of Sparta who had been slain at the battle of Thermopylae, child to the witches who scattered across the Grecian isle, the elders had child in wing. They had her blessed by the gods, baptised in their light, naming her singularly after one of the most powerful witches known to Grecian covens, Circe Luccia Kylan.
Early Life
The witches within the coven had a feeling Circe was quite the powerful witch. But to what extent they could not say. As a babe she was able to throw people across the room with a simple cry, and she was also able to understand what other people wanted from her as early as 12 months where she had garnered the ability to read peoples minds. This left the coven split in half, one half was excited at the power they had been given through a simple witch. The other half was terrified at how advanced she was becoming.
At 5 years old, she was only a small girl, but had wavy locks of fiery red hair which stood out in the crowd of the blond and dark haired witches around her.
After class, one day, Circe found one of her best friends, a small witch around the same age as her, dead, slaughtered by a mountain lion which had found its way into the coven’s sanction. Within seconds Circe had resurrected the girl, to almost perfection. Around the girls waking body lay poppies. As if to remember the little death that had happened, and soon thereafter a mountain lion was found dead amongst the coven’s herbal groves, tainting the soil.
This made the fear grow within the coven.
The Incident
After the minor incident as a babe, which sort broken bones of the witches Circe had thrown around when she cried, nothing much happened as she grew. It was believed she had complete control. 15 years old and she finally learnt how her mother died, how some of the coven, blamed her for her mother’s death. How she drained her mother of any chance of preservation. This upset her, and she ran out of the coven’s temples and into the forest surrounding it. Search party after search party turned up empty. But some girls found her, a small group of them, known to be the mean girls of the coven, they taunted and laughed at Circe who cried at the idea that she caused harm to someone. Something caused her eyes to glow, a fiery golden colour, different to her ocean blue eyes. She’d scream at the girls to stop, sending them back, a blast of fire came from her hands and the forest erupted into flames. Circe survived, but the girls who found her, they were swallowed by the flames, whether it was the telekinetic blast or the fire that killed them, the coven never found out. But Circe was dangerous, and locked away from the rest of the girls, she continued to receive private teachings.
Near Death Experience
It was a lonely night, when Circe heard the knob on her door twist, the lock jingle and the door swung up. She had almost stumbled, jumping out of her bed so fast, ready to hurt the person who disturbed her chambers. In stumbled a boy, someone she did not know. A blade clutched within his hand as a torch light silhouetted him from behind. It was silent as they watched each other, and Circe did not expect the man to jump at her knife over his head. She put her arm up and felt the bite of the blade across her arm, blood spilling across her clothes, her bedding, and the man’s armour. She used her magic, telekinetically pushing the guy away from her ripping the knife from his hand and bringing it to her. She watched the man, not laying a hand on him before he frantically yelped and threw his armour and shirt from his body. Circe was confused and she saw the fear in the man’s eyes. Something in her thought to let the man leave, but something else in her. Her eyes began to glow again, this man tried to kill her, and it did not sit right with her to let him live. She telekinetically slammed the door shut, lodged the knife in his throat and threw him from the window, down into the river. It was when he was gone, she noticed the burnt holes in his steel armour, his shirt, her pants and her bedding, burn marks made from her blood. The cut on her arm had almost instantly disappeared.
Repentance
In isolation Circe found herself garnering control over her powers. She found real power in what she said, and she was finally released from her isolation and allowed to live with the other witches. She was fine for years. Unaware of the mental rewiring the elder witches did to her. Something that would set Circe up for sacrifice.
The Sacrificial Lamb
The elder witches wanted Circe’s power. They wanted it to be shared amongst the coven, and the only way to do that would be to ritually sacrifice her to the gods. Circe did not know that’s what the elders wanted, and at 21 years old, at the peak of her power, she prepared herself for a very special ritual, an almost welcome back ritual for the years she had gone without an incident. But that was not the real ritual being performed, and Circe did not know that she was actually the lamb for slaughter so they could have her powers.
Death and Destruction
Circe lay upon the table in the temple, below Olympus like her mother had when giving birth to her. The chanting began and she smiled, happy to be accepted into the coven again, no longer a monster shamed for the power she had been given. When the blade was stabbed into her heart her breath stopped and her eyes watered, she looked at the elder witches, smug smiles upon their faces and cheers from the witches who waited for the power to drain from Circe and into them. Circe’s hands felt for the blade the handle on her chest, the point of it, poking out her back. She grabbed the point, the handle was glowing, like fractals of life leaking from her, she pulled the handle through her body, the blade shattering into dust as she did so and the hole within her chest healing itself.
Her eyes began to glow, the veins within her entire body following suit, like fire lived within her and she let out an earth-shattering scream, closing off all the exits. The flames in the sconces grew, catching the fabrics and lighting the temple in glorious flame. The witches screamed in fear. She looked at everyone and turned to the elders who began to try to fight back, but with a wave of her hand, they disintegrated into nothing, their lives erased from the earth, but not from the memories of their family who continued to scream.
Flames burst from Circe’s body, her arms out stretched she screamed, the flames around her body taking the form of a bird, a phoenix. Everything around her bit by bit began to disintegrate. The very matter of their skin flying from their bodies, and their bones turning to dust. They become the power, and the power became them. As the temple came crashing down, Circe’s body concaved under the weight of the power they was in her, with the destruction of the coven that sought her death, with no one to love her and to keep those alive safe from her untamed power, she let the power from within her, destroy the very matter it possessed and a huge blast that could be heard over all of the Greek world shattered the land below the mountain. Taking Circe and her people with it, before dissipating into nothing.
Resurrection
It had been a quite a couple years later, when the ashes in which the witch’s temple lay began to move. A baby’s cries could be heard within the ruins and people went in to find a baby lying naked within the ashes, a small girl left alone, assumed to be abandoned by her parents. This baby grew up, with fiery red hair and became a very strong witch. She had no complete recollection of her life prior, and she found herself re-learning and re-making her old mistakes. Again, she died, in a nuclear like blast, but still it did not end the life of the power that controlled her life.
The Present
After many resurrections, after many failures, after many murders, accidental and on purpose. Circe found herself living once more in the modern era. She walks amongst the humans. She can feel the power within her, yearning for release, but she bottled it up. Refusing to use it. She barely recollects her past lives, though she knows she’s had many. Growing tired of her ancient name, she was happy to change it to another, and soon enough Kyla, was reborn, a red headed girl, with bottled up emotions, and bottled up powers. Never sure when she will blow up, taking her own life, and those around her.
-Gallery-
