MORI, ROXANNABELL
Dec 28, 2014 20:57:28 GMT -7
Post by neko bo beko on Dec 28, 2014 20:57:28 GMT -7
HOLY WATER CANNOT HELP YOU NOW
NAME : ROXANNABELL "ROXXY" MORI
ALIAS : ALBATRAOZ
HERITAGE : SANKUCHI ; THREE MOUTHS
AGE : NINETEEN
ZODIAC : PISCES
GENDER : FEMALE
CATCHPHRASE : "RADICAL!"
ORIENTATION : HOMOSEXUAL LEANING / AROMANTIC
HEIGHT : 5'6''
WEIGHT : 130 LBS
ALIGNMENT : CHAOTIC EVIL
NATIONALITY : SAXUM
AFFILIATION : NONE - NON NINJA
THOUSAND ARMIES COULDN'T KEEP ME OUT
personality
personality
Bitten, bruised lips have the capability of rendering you weak in the knees either from dangerous smooches or harsh truths.
On the topic of smooches, Roxxy has grown up alongside the occasional platonic kisses, despite your sexual orientation and self identities, disregarding momentarily her love for the feminine bod and mindset to ravish you in her intimate friendship. As long as there's no tongue, that shit is satisfactory and alright to do with your best pals. A smooch on the lips from her is impeccable initiation and she has, in fact, chosen you to be a pal. Feel lucky. There is no angsty vibes flooding your way, no eyes baring into your own as she thinks intently about how sweet your blood must taste, not to mention how good it would look slathered all over her, because damn it looks good under your skin. Ah, yes, Roxannabell is quite the character.
In reality, she is broken, and bruised, and defeated, and so, so fed up with life, which is the stem of her hyperactive, carefree, volatile, border-line psychotic notions. To amplify such personalities, she carries a hand-rolled joint on her at all times. Trading your body for little pleasures like that isn't all too bad, in the long run. Until she finally decides to settle down with a woman, singular, for all of eternity.
Her laughter at such a thought carries away in the wind, as she doesn't plan on settling down with a woman, singular, for all of eternity. At least, not in this eternity. Flings are cool, but relationships aren't really her style. Not because of some tragedy that happened to her long ago, but more because it's a personal choice that she indulges upon. Pals, as well as pals with benefits, is much, much more adequate. Also, it makes certain aspects of relationships much more easier, as there is no chance of love triangles that revolve around her. If they do, then oh well, cos it's not her fucking problem, now is it?
With a give-em-hell attitude and a toothy, wide-eyed grin, Roxxy is the epitome of badass. At least, that's how she views herself. High self-confidence is an extra boost in, not only life, but combat. She hardly second-guesses herself, and when her gut feels funny, she knows that it's time to explore different strategies. She's smart, astute and much more intelligent than people give her credit for. For good reasons, however, as her speeches are strung together by vulgar swears and harsh truths. Her speech pattern is very distinct also because of her use of the words "yeah," "mate," and "radical." She talks in a somewhat condescendingly charming way, above all else. She is blunt and brutal and all around rude when she wants to be, but also very capable of being the sweetest, cheesiest person ever. "I love the way your eyes look in the moonlight, it's fucking magical," wouldn't be something you'd expect to pass through her bruised lips right before those aforementioned lips crash against yours. For a girl who carries no weight of romantic value, she is very, very sentimental. All her pals who have become intimate with her will find that she treats them like princesses, or princes on the off chance that she decides to delve into that aspect of friendship with a male counterpart. Slut, she supposes, is the correct vernacular for that. She prefers "compellingly trustworthy and gooey on the inside."
Flirtatious. She's flirtatious.
Although it is unlikely, when plunged into a nerve-racking situation that would bring out a nervous habit, as they're called, in anyone, hers would be biting of the lips. They are bruised and a deep red because of this, yet somehow simultaneously soft. Sometimes, when drifting into a intoxicated haze thanks to the help of her green, smelly friend, she will sink into a floating feeling of ecstasy if lounging about. This is a good time to ask her, or tell her, anything that would make you piss yourself to even think about mentioning around her beforehand. The cue for this mood is, coincidentally, biting her lips. There is a very subtle difference between lip biting, so it's best to just assume that she's always nervous when she's chewing at her lips unless you are, for certain, aware of her height. Wink. Wonk.
I DON'T WANT YOUR MONEY
appearance
EXPRESSIONS | FULLBODY | OUTFIT
appearance
EXPRESSIONS | FULLBODY | OUTFIT
Countless variations of "Cotton Candy" have been thrown out to describe Roxxy's color palette. Blue and pink are her natural pigments; light blue hair, pink eyes and pink bruised lips, not to mention the rosy inflamation in her cheeks.
Roxy has sharply stretched features. Her facial structure is long, her chin rounding to a point to match her sharp nose. Her eyes, eyelined in a thick black to bring out the pink of her iris, are wide and observant. Her thin eyebrows don't match her hair color exactly, deepening on the spectrum but otherwise blue. Roxxy is attractive and is very aware of it, sometimes joking about how she could ride through life on her good looks.
Contortions of her face and body come naturally, so her range of expressions are interesting. She can be read like a thin sheet of paper, her emotions expressed relentlessly outwards. Consequentively, she's terrible at poker.
To frame her smooth complexion of a face, Roxxy's blue hair frames her face, her bangs swept to the right, sometimes obscuring aforementioned side's view with blobs of sky blue. All together, her hair falls to nearly her calves, but she pulls it into tight twin braids that get little affection. She's been known to sometimes leave her hair in braids for well over half a year, so when she does get around to taking the braids out, her hair is bouncy and full of curls and locks of tattered, dead strands of the blue tangles. Her bangs are soft, and her hair only stops being healthy past her shoulders. It smells of raspberries you will notice, deeply defying the hygiene-avoidant personality you would consider while trying to drag a brush through her hair.
Roxxy spends as much of her free time in hot springs as she possibly can. It's good for her everything, she claims, and that's why she always smells so good and fruity. Her skin is healthy and soft. Her proportions are all within in the same mile, her hips slimmer than she's like and her chest a few cup sizes too small to be called assets. She looks generally thin and frail, but the muscles under her flesh say otherwise.
On the pale skin of her right arm, Roxxy has paid to brand herself with a sleeve of light blue clouds to not only symbolize Kumogakure, where she was raised, but also to symbolize the smoke that settles after an explosion. Brilliant, she told herself at the time of drawing up the idea, but looking back on it, she's not so sure it's quite full. Like it's missing something, maybe, but she doesn't quite know yet what it is.
Roxxy tries to stay balanced when it comes to apparel, but in her own off-centered way. She wears a bikini-esque top, the left plate made of a thick, black leather. The right breast is a pink fabric that is matched by horizontal stripes of a darker shade of pink. The bikini top doubles as a holster for various small items, but nothing fills their compartments that round all the way to her back. It buckles in the front like a dog collar. The shoulders hook at the breasts, making it an item easy to slip out of.
Her pocketless shorts fail to cover the entirety of her thighs, the color and texture matching that of her left breast plate, pink on darker pink horizontal stripes. A belt that matches the holster on her bikini top sits on her hips, a small bag sits on the left side, a compartment full of maluable clay waiting inside. Her exposed stomach is often the product of worry when it comes to combat, as to add to another reason to try and remain strictly mid-range.
Climbing her left leg is a pink sock that matches her eyes, white stripes crisscrossing up the fabric. A black, leather band wraps either thigh, the left one holding up the somewhat saggy pink sock. Combat boots sit on her feet, a pink bandaid overlapping a blue on on her right knee. Mostly for visual effect, as she has no wound under neath. Perhaps it healed long ago. On her right arm is a a black sleeve, three dark pink accessories hoisting it in definite place. On her left hand is a black glove, a pink collar-like buckle at the wrist. Both gloves have a zipper function at the palms for future use. Around her neck is a thick-roped necklace that wraps around a few times for support, the bullet tied at the end once belonging to the gun she first shot.
If it ever becomes a problem, she can easily trade in her current clothes for something warmer, but that would also involve rounding back to her home base, so she sometimes will suck up the cold, or buy something warm for the time being.
I DON'T WANT YOUR CROWN
history
history
Born to a sickly mother in the most metaphorical of phrases, Roxannabel was concieved by a psychotic woman. Roxxy's father was docile and abused by the mother, and the blue-haired girl was raised into a violent life style via her mother.
They moved out of the Stone village shortly after her birth, arriving in Cloud before she had any reconciliation to be had with her birth land. The house she grew up in remains to be her home base, efficiently run on solar-powered electricity that her father hooked up prior to his sudden death on Roxxy's seventh birthday.
Before his death, Roxxy loved her father, and she looked up to him. A part of her wanted to destroy her mother for what she did, and continued, to do for years to come. She was mean and unnecescarily cruel to both Roxxy and her father, and it later came to her attention that it was because of her mother that he had died.
It didn't take long for her mother to catch on when Roxxy approached her, kitchen knife in hand, at the age of thirteen. She had always been a violent child, she was kicked out of the ninja academy for such reasons; beating up her peers, once or twice knocking the substitute instructors unconscience over a dispute. She was just generally a rough kid at the time, so when she cornered her mother and towered over her, the woman only cackled. Minutes later, her blood painted the walls and Roxxy discovered how sweet it was to hear her mother's screams in place of her father's. She had always beat him at night, somehow making sure to haunt Roxxy's nightmares to this day. The girl has flirted with insomnia because of her mother, so of course she would delve into the indulgence of killing her mother. The process was slow, and she made sure her mother was alive for every bit of it. She cleaned up and disposed of the mess with ease, and when nobody even bothered to conduct an investigation, she figured she was in the clear.
Torture seemed to come easy to Roxannabell, or Roxxy, after that. She didn't have the heart to perform it on animals, so she stuck to humans. After she discovered that, with a few pleading words, anybody could twist out of her bloodthirsty grip, she had to nurture hatred for her victims. She's come around to picking people apart and can, very easily, figure out your insecurities and inhibitions and use them against you.
After a while, she became somewhat famous in Kumogakure. Well. Not herself in particular, but her killings, and the disappearances she'd rendered, things that were her fault, those things got picked up, and she decided it was time to head out on the road. She keeps her home clean, and returns periodically, but sets her mind on traveling. She has no real motives, not really, other than to wreck havoc.
SEE, I'VE COME TO BURN YOUR KINGDOM DOWN
in length, stated by the jutsu itself).
