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Character Name: Everith the Fallen Alternate Identities: Everith Angeles Player Name: Lauren |
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| APPEARANCE | |||||
| Hair Color: | Black | ||||
| Eye Color: | Deep Green | ||||
| Height: | 5' 10" | ||||
| Weight: | 132 lbs | ||||
| Description: | |||||
| Though no longer angelic, Everith is none the less incredibly beautiful. Her hair was remained black, as it was when her Fall began and the green eyes have darked to the color of a pine forest. Her skin, while still pale, no longer remains unresponsive to a blush and color in her face has become the norm for her when near Kyle. Though there has been little outward change in her body, she has, in fact, become fully female and lost the 'hollowness' of bone that helped her to fly. She is still capable of flight, but she is no longer able to internalize her wings. | |||||
| BACKGROUND | |||||
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Ghost Archer vanished, taking the man claiming to be Uriel with him. On the rooftop, the pair watched them go, the woman with the black wings of a bird, the man, massive, muscled, with an arm aroound each other’s waist. As the rift opened by the bowman closed, Everith collapsed against Kyle. “I feel … wrong,” she managed before she passed out. Still in the form of Psion, Kyle scooped her up, mindful of her wings, and immediately note an increase in her weight. “Spock,” he said to the air. “Med lab!” The split second it took the transporter to move them the 35 yards to the med lab, felt like hours to Kyle. Not once in the time he had known her had Eve ever shown the slightest inclination to flinch let alone pass out. Something was seriously wrong. On arrival he waste no time in popping the lid to the auto-doc and stripping the woman he loved to the skin. Laying her carefully on her wings, he pushed the lid closed and shifted his body back to its normal form. Taking his glasses from a pocket he put them on and inspected the monitor screen. BP, normal. Heart rate, normal. Breathing, normal. Temperature, normal. EKG, normal. EEG, normal … nothing appeared to be … weight, 132 pounds. Everith only weighed 100 pounds. She opened her eyes and looked at him through the glass. Something in her eyes had him stamping on the release even before she opened her mouth to scream. He caught her as she tried to scramble out of the pod, her wings all askew. She was crying, she never cried. “What happened to me?! Why are my wings hurting? Why am I crying?” She suddenly pushed away from him and clutched her stomach. “Something’s wrong! I can feel it!” “I suggest a sedative,” the computer offered. “They don’t work on an angel!” Kyle snapped. “She is not an angel,” the computer replied. Both of them froze. Some of the cold control returned to Everith. “Explain,” she growled. “Based on the medical reading from the auto-doc, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are a perfectly health human female of approximately twenty years of age. Your one anomaly is a pair of wings growing from your back. Your bone structure and musculature support the evidence that you are capable of self powered flight.” For the second time in her life, Everith, the Fallen Angel of God, passed out. |
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| POWERS/TACTICS | |||||
| Gone, save for her wings. All she has left is the martial arts she has been studying for the better part of a decade. | |||||
| PERSONALITY/MOTIVATION | |||||
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Everith is still in shock at all the changes. Being human, mostly, has unleased emotions that before where little more than a passing notion. Her love of Kyle Longstreet to that point, she realized, was probably akin to the love one might show to a pet. It had become overwhelming and terrifying. Added to this increase of emotional attachment was something even more powerful and somehow demanding, lust. Now she struggles to maintain the attitude most of those in the Valley have come to know. It isn't always easy when you find yourself crying at a sad movie or a song. Nor is it easy when Kyle does that thing with his glasses and she wants to rip off all of his clothes. So far this has only happened a few dozen times, usually in the library. Spock, that wisest of computers, has taken to locking the library door at the first sign of an eminent emotional outburst. |
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Created: Wed, 25 Sep 2019 09:07:58
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