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In a world you thought you knew, secrets remained hidden in the shrouds of time and destiny. In the age of the internet and television, the characters of your childhood fairy tales, your favorite movies, or even your wildest desires are all reality. Humanity has found itself no longer alone. The monsters are out of the closet. Magic is real. Society has found itself divided into those who have accepted the 'others', and those who wish to send these creatures into a fiery grave.

Here you'll find a church that promises lasting life by embracing the eternal curse of the vampire. There are groups of humans who have risen up to create hate groups to destroy the supernatural. An eternal struggle between angels and demons amidst it all, threatening destruction of the entire world in the cross-fire. All the while, most of society works, lives, breathes, right along side monsters and beautiful creatures from their dreams. Who are you among them?

Welcome to Savannah, Georgia.

Character of the Quarter
Seth Jefferson

Thread of the Quarter
Old Face, New Trouble

Hero of the Quarter
Freya Storm

Villain of the Quarter
Zander & Sabryn

Pure Heart of the Quarter
Fouch Sobry

Dark Heart of the Quarter
Etain Devlin

Romantic of the Quarter
Lark Eswin

We Ship This of the Quarter
Lark & Zander

Valued Member of the Quarter
Sacha & Firefly

New Character of the Quarter
Seth Jefferson

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 Lark Eswin
Posted on: Oct 10 2017, 01:00 PM


the basics
appearing age
chronological age
power rank
December 6th
Ryan Newman

Lark is a remarkably petite girl, only managing to reach five feet tall. Despite her small stature she is quite well proportioned for her frame – not overly curvy and yet still generously endowed. Her hair has always been kept long, often times threatening to sweep in just above the top of her buttocks. More often than not she can be found sporting curls, unless of course she simply ran out of time. In those rare occurrences she is usually satisfied with piling her hair atop her head and securing it by whatever means is necessary. Where she may be lacking in size, she certainly makes up for it in stark beauty. Naturally a creamy shade of alabaster, her complexion and dark hair allow for the perfect canvas for her most exquisite feature, her eyes. Contacts could not even come close to duplicating the Caribbean blue shade of her eyes. Rounded by thick, long, dark lashes they are without question her best feature.

The only identifying marks that she has upon her body are a small heart shaped birthmark on her inner left thigh and a pair of scars from the gala. The first scar is on the front of her shoulder and looks like a small multi-pointed star with a small indented circle at the center. The second is upon the back of her shoulder and is larger in circumference than the one at the front. It is a bit broader and not so perfectly circular, with arms extending in differing lengths. It still bears a slightly 'star' like appearance, but seems more aggressive than that of the first.


Lark lived a relatively sheltered life in her youth. Because of that she tends to be rather naïve when it comes to the world at large. Nevertheless she has an overwhelming thirst for knowledge and to experience as much as she possibly can. Unfortunately her zest for life and the tight reign her parents had held over her has resulted in a mentality that can only be described as one who does not think to look before she leaps. Incredibly spontaneous, Lark is far more unpredictable than most people might expect upon first meeting her.

Overall, however, she is exactly who she seems to be. Bright, affectionate, caring, and loyal are only a few of the choice words her family and friends would likely use to describe her. She is the kind of girl who can walk into a room and immediately make an impression, if for no other reason than because of how jovial she is. Even when faced with negativity she tends to remain incredibly upbeat and optimistic. On rare occasions her desire to remain uplifting can come off as superficial or vapid, however, once people truly get to know her they quickly realize she simply is that jubilant.


The Life & Death of Light Magic

The European Renaissance was a time of rebirth and discovery. It gave way to philosophy, architecture, and science unlike any the world had ever known. It was during this time that Marsilio Ficino lived. One of the many philosophers of the day, he was unique in that he was not just a philosopher, but a priest as well. As the first man to translate Plato’s works and a respected astrologer, Marsilio made a name for himself as an authority of many subjects. Most of which were widely accepted and appreciated. The one that stood out among them however was his belief that spiritual beings existed among man that possessed a celestial light, but were not products of “God” or his heaven. With much at his disposal, Marsilio sought to prove his theory by researching the history of these beings to present to the church.

The origins of white or light magic could be traced back to Paleolithic religions that predated monotheism. They did not, however, disappear with the birth of monotheism and in fact were still evident in the earliest forms of Judaism and Christianity. The earliest representations of these religions actually had documentation that pointed not to alternate deities but to presences who existed that were apart from humanity and the celestial. As he studied Marsilio found that these beings were not malevolent, but rather they were humans born with a power that required no spells or incantations to summon. Unfortunately his findings did not serve to please the church. If anything they had the worst effect that Marsilio could have hoped for.

While the church did eventually acknowledge the existence of these light wielding souls, they immediately refuted his implication that their magic was a part of them and that they were pure of soul. Instead Marsilio found many of his fellow priests eager to denounce them as witches that had in some way sold their souls in exchange for the ability to wield magic. In his desire to bring magic to the masses and usher in a new unity among men, Marsilion unwittingly brought forth what would be the first of many witch hunts to follow. The church, unwilling to chance the loss of its followers, quickly devised laws and codes of conduct that all members were forced to adhere to. Everything from medicine, astronomy, alchemy, and more were regulated to such an extreme that if anyone managed to produce a result that did not come to fruition from the processes outlined, they were accused of witchcraft and immediately tried.

The result was the near extinction of the light wielding witches that Marsilio had sought to have accepted and treasured by the community. Those few that remained gathered in hiding with one another to devise the best possible solution to their predicament. The truth of the matter was, that they were not exactly as Marsilion thought or what the church proclaimed them to be. Their existence was truly a natural one, however, their magic was not as unwieldable as Marsilion believed it to be. With the world as they knew it converging against their existence specifically the makeshift council did the only thing that they could think to do in order to preserve their families.

A spell was devised to bind their magic and the magic of those that would follow, in order to ensure that it would not be detectable by those who sought to eliminate them. The process would be considerably harder to endure for those who now bore their magic, but for the young and the future generations, it would be a loss they would never truly understand. It was a means to avoid eradication, but it would not be without stipulation. Their magic and all that would follow would remain dormant, caged within, so long as the host’s life was never threatened. In the rare circumstance where their lives were put in jeopardy, the bondage would be discarded and the power would be free. It was the ultimate form of self-preservation. If they could not hide, they would need to protect themselves, but their first resort would always be avoidance.

The spell was for the most part an effective one. It managed to blanket centuries, during which time those who knew of their history were lost to time. What few followed were quick to choose progress over the fantastical stories of the past, which led to a near loss of their history. On the rarest of occasions one soul would find themselves unlucky enough to experience the exception to what had become a rule – truly making them a rarity even among the magical community.

A Rare Exception

Lark had decided sometime around high school that her life was not all that exciting. All she had needed to turn a mirror upon herself was a single school paper about what they had done over the summer. After looking back over the months she had away from the hustle and bustle of the crowded halls, she found herself with little more to write about than a few days spent swimming at the beach. In a moment of brilliance she thought she’d simply pull from the summers before it and yet with each one she found herself increasingly disappointed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed them, quite the contrary in fact, they had been quite fun in the moment – they just weren’t very exciting. Unfortunately she was not alone. Most of the students she knew did exactly what she did, which undoubtedly made for a very dull night of grading for their teacher.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault that her life had been as hum drum as it was. Her parents were good people and they did everything that they could to ensure she and her brother could have a good life. It was the quintessential American dream, only nobody really went into detail in describe the nuances of that dream when they planted it in the heads of the unsuspecting youth. Where was the harm in a white picket fence with two children and a dog? In reality there wasn’t one, except that in middle-class America you had to work five days a week in order to get there. What was left were exhausted weekends spent keeping that hard earned house running.

As uneventful as her life had been up to that point, she simply didn’t want it to be so moving forward. While she certainly respected her parents for all their hard work, she wasn’t going to duplicate their pattern and spend her life simply going through the motions. That was the night she had cracked open all the books her counselor had given her on perspective colleges and suitable majors. Everything she had been considering up to that point was discarded as she flipped her way through in a hurry to find something that would ensure her life was more exciting than working a nine to five and coming home to a couple kids at night. Then she had it.

Preternatural studies. It stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of all the math, arts, and science. It had to be different than anything she knew, right? It certainly wasn’t baking or construction, which were her parents chosen professions respectively. It was unique and would mean working with people who were not stuck in the suburban lot that middle-class life had to offer. From that moment onward her mind was made up. A single paper had forced her to reflect upon her life and redirect it down a path that all but literally left her parents speechless. What could they say though really? They had always done their best to try and raise their children to be open minded, so debating her on the topic would only lead to discord.

The remainder of her time in high school was spent preparing herself for when she would finally be free from her parents rules and the stereotypical mundane that had become her daily life. Every night she found herself nose deep in any number of books reading up on one species or another. It became a battle just to get her to stop long enough to eat. The more she learned the more she wanted to know, until books started to fall short of her ravenous curiosity. There was only so much that she could really read in order to understand any number of preternatural species. Rushing toward graduation she was already itching to jump into higher education, hoping that college and her selected courses would be enough to satiate her desire for knowledge.

As soon as she was able she said farewell to her family and headed for the city. Finding a suitable enough residence in a rented room in an old house in the city, she felt immediately at home. It looked every bit as haunted as the houses she saw the carriages rolling past as they led people on ghost tours of the city. It was absolutely perfect for a girl who was so obsessed with the world that existed alongside her own. When the first day of school came she was the first in her seat, already beaming with a palpable excitement. Unfortunately the usual lesson plans and applied syllabuses seemed to almost stunt her progress. Where she had been hoping that college would be the gateway to her newfound infatuation, it was nothing but a new version of an old stereotype. It was just like high school, only bigger, and with more annoyances.

Begging for extra assignments to challenge her, she ended up piling more work upon herself. It still didn’t quite manage to live up to her expectations. As much as she had wanted this to be the grand adventure that would shape her life, it was turning out to be another disappointment. It was then that she decided if she was really going to study preternaturals, then she was simply going to have to do so first hand. Reaching out to every possible avenue, she found herself quickly swept up in a world that would could leave any young heart alight with wonder. Of course with the delirium of delight, it was easy for her to overlook the dangers that encompassed her. It had never occurred to her, however, that she might find herself overcome with such a danger at the Halloween gala.

What had begun as a night of revelry devolved into one of horror and tragedy. Persecution it seemed was alive and well in the south. For the first time Lark bore witness to just how radical hatred could become as she watched as gunfire brought partygoers to their final rest. Surrounded by death she had responded to the call of aid, only to find herself in the line of fire. When the bullet hit she lost all sense of the world around her only to become acutely aware of the fading sensation that gnawed at her senses. As she lied there bleeding out with her friend desperately attempting to stop the process, her power finally made itself known. What bondage had held it was a memory that would never again be known. What had remained hidden was free and unruly and would threaten to overcome her if given the opportunity.

It wouldn’t be until she awoke in the hospital that Lark would truly realize what was happening to her, but even then there was a great deal she would have to come to terms with. It was not merely a mortal life she would have to endure any longer. As much as she had hoped to become a part of the supernatural world, she had never dreamed it would happen the way that it had. The problem now was harnessing the power she had never known existed, while still navigating a world that bore more dangers for her than she could have ever truly anticipated.

Aura of Radiance:

Lark exudes an aura of radiance that has an almost celestial feel to it. It has a pure quality that cannot be tainted by any other power source. People within her aura that have no ability to detect it will feel at peace. Those who are able to detect auras in some manner may find the sense of warmth and comfort that it provides as alluring. It can soothe people from a state of unease and can often dull symptoms from things like withdrawal or bloodlust. The aura is not controllable and is always in a constant state of exposure. When she is in good spirits it extends further, whereas when she is unhappy, frightened, etc. the aura closes around her. At its most the aura might extend a quarter of a mile, weakening the further it is from her person.

Untapped Power:

Lark was born a witch, though for much of her life she was unaware of it. Thanks to the catalyst of nearly dying, her powers have begun to manifest themselves. Because she has only minimal training at this time, she can lose control of her power. In a sense it is “leaking” from within her and may begin to exhibit itself in random ways. More often than not they will come as a result to some emotional outburst. (Fear, anger, anxiety, etc.) The manifestations will always be in some way attributed to the light as that is where her magic stems from. As she learns to harness and control her power the “untapped” pool will be removed entirely and focused into learned spells and abilities.

Intelligent: Lark is like a sponge when it comes to learning. Because of that she tends to know a lot about a lot of things, however, this is primarily all information she has read and not experienced first hand.

Baking: Her mother is a pastry chef by profession, so she has picked up her fair share when it comes to making tasty treats.

Horseback Riding: Horses are second only to books in her life. While she doesn’t have any of her own, she has had riding lessons since she was old enough to hold the reins.

Singing: While untrained, she does have a remarkably beautiful singing voice.

Socialization: In general, Lark carries herself incredibly well and is exceptionally charismatic. Because of that fact she can make herself at home in most every situation and not only do so seamlessly, but leave a lasting impression on those she meets.

Lark grew up in a typical middle-class home just outside of Savannah in a little town called Pooler. It was the quintessential suburban upbringing with two working parents and a single annoying brother. Now that she is in school she’s ready to embrace the city life. She managed to rent an old house in downtown Savannah with a couple other college students. While she only has one room and a shared bathroom, she’s pretty much convinced that she is living the high life without authority. She is still a work first play later kind of girl, despite her desire to jump into the world and enjoy all that it has to offer. Because of that she spends far more nights at home with her nose buried in a book then she would like to admit. When she does find herself caught up, however, she is quick to leave the house behind and explore the city.

Adam Eswin – Father
Elizabeth Eswin – Mother
Jacob Eswin – Brother


did you read the rules? [yes]

your age [OLD]

years of RP experience [22]

There was a certain art that existed in not only living as a slave but exceling at it. You had to be able to not only identify the wants and needs of the one you were serving, but deliver on them in such a way as to remain pleasing. In the short time that she had been with him, however, Cherish had learned that simply pleasing Nik was not enough to remain viable. Unlike other houses she had been in throughout her past, boring her Master was the farthest thing from what she wanted. With Nik, boredom could be deathly dangerous, whereas with others it could mean a life of blissful peace. In order to remain as in tact and cared for as she was, she needed to ensure that he was not only pleased with her, but that he never tired of her. It was a precarious balance; like walking the blade of a razor’s tip, but it was one she had managed with comparatively minimal damage than that of her predecessors.

As the weeks crawled on to months, her lastly performance was justly rewarded. A room gave way to apparel and before she knew it a trip. The “meeting” as it was referred to would no doubt be less of a blessing than it was implied and yet she did her best to assure him that she was delighted in being chosen. Always the convincing young ingénue, she made herself up as best as she was able, taking care to ensure that every last detail would be something that would please him first and foremost. It didn’t matter where they were going, who would see them, or what they would do… if she did not inspire him from the moment she stepped from her room, then she would have failed and failure was simply not an option.

The ride over was far from comfortable given the degree of tension within the limo and yet despite it the physical contact was minimal. Wherever they were going it would matter how she looked when they arrived; otherwise there was not a doubt in her mind that he would have done considerably more than just hold her thigh. There was a certain pressure in the tips of his fingers against the supple flesh of her inner leg that told her that much. As they arrived she turned her gaze up toward the front of the estate, looking upon it with the smallest inkling of intrigue. Where exactly had he brought her and why? The question was only muddled further as he stood from the limo and presented her with his hand. The gesture was a foreign one and yet it was met with immediate obedience.

Rising in his wake with very little pressure put into his hand, she ascended to the height of her stiletto tipped heels. Balancing with a ballerina-like grace on the balls of her feet as she fell into step at his side. Poised beneath his arm like the prized little gem that she was, guided into the luxurious lap of the seeded underworld. Not paying so much as a glance to the individual behind the door, she allowed her gaze to instead pass to the parlor beyond. Without bringing her gaze higher than that of a person’s waist she could count the bodies and take stock of what was happening. The slaves in accompaniment were not unkempt, rather they seemed to be groomed and trained, put forth to perform like priceless livestock.

The thought narrowed her eyes but a fraction of an inch before Nik’s turn initiated the immediate dismissal of any sign of dissatisfaction. By the time his eyes touched her features they were as beautifully placid as a porcelain doll. As he spoke she heard the tone twisting at the back of his tongue; that lilt in his voice that implied his question was rhetorical rather than earnest. He didn’t want her to tell him that she understood, if she didn’t understand by now then she wasn’t worth his time or effort. Instead she simply acknowledged him with the fractional ascension of her lashes. Offering just the tiniest hint of the multi-faceted shades of blue that hid behind those long golden veils as her gaze found its way to his lips.

When he kissed her she let the world sink away once more as her lashes fell, dropping to splay across her cheeks. Puckering her lips into the embrace she met the contact but not in the way one might find of a lover; instead she seemed to welcome him upon the silken threshold of her lips, submitting to the force behind his kiss. In the midst of it the tiniest sound welled to the surface, buzzing between their skins, so subtle it would have been lost but to the man standing in such proximity. It was a whimper in word only, in practice it was the sound of vulnerability and confirmation. When he withdrew and the last of his words chilled the moisture upon her lips she was quick to respond, allowing the sweet sound of her submission to follow. “Always.”

With the acknowledgement assured she waited to follow his lead. Did he expect her to simply go and be or was there a particular protocol that she was expected to follow, beyond what had been immediately outlined? Whatever was to come, it would not alter her perception of the event. This night was undoubtedly going to be one she would never forget, but that certainly did not mean that it would be one that she would enjoy.

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Moved for Sacha to edit in an ability
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Moved so Sacha can update History on her magic and it awakening.

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