indigo lavvan blaire

[Indigo Lavvan Blaire]

Now The dark begins to rise Save your breath it's far from over;;

FIRST|SECOND|LAST|♫

21. supernatural- loup-garoux . pansexual unstable.illogical .

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Leave the lost and dead behindNows your chance to run for coverI don't want to change the world I just want to leave it colder;;

How you Found us :;

Well, after a good two year break from role-playing I finally thought I’d return to the world of creativity I loved. So browsing the proboards and bouncing from site to site, i located this lovely place and never left.

Light the fuse and burn it upTake the path that leads to nowhere All is lost again, but I'm not giving in
I Will Not Bow, I Will Not BreakI Will shut the world away;;

Name;; Indigo Lavvan Blaire
Age;; 21
Sex;; Male
Alias;; Indigo
Eye colour;; Slate Blue
Hair colour;; Dusty blonde
Height;; 6’1

I will not fall, I will not fade I will take your breath away Watch the end through dying eyes Now the dark is taking over;;

Personality;;
Indigo's actions cannot be explained rationally and if asked, the only answer he could give - a confused What the heck are you talking about?! in a somewhat shy, obviously disgruntled tone - would be certainly unsatisfactory.

He can, at best, be described as someone who is factual and despite of that, is loved by those irrational people and facts he surrounds them with. Not to say that Indy would not defend a good - a very good - friend of his in a time of dire need, but does not most often act unpredictably. For instance, in a situation where it requires little speaking, he will do as such and when a large bout of charismatic ability is needed, he will accomplish it with no more talking than was absolutely required.

On the other hand, this cream-skinned boy with shockingly light hair, is known to explode into unexpected outbursts of anger and frustration, his usually solemn silver-blue gaze filled with the flickering flames of rage and hate. There have been times when he was expected to take control of a situation as he always does, calmly and reasonably, where he acts irrationally and follows - what, he muses, other people refer to as instinct - his heart. Bah!, they'd say when asked of Indy's emotions. He has no heart, they'd all agree with a nod, as if sealing the deal. So confident and sure of themselves, these people would assure the one asking that they had made no such error -- but ah they have. Indeed, Indy has a heart.

It's just so hard, terribly difficult indeed, to discover.

Far longer than he can remember - now that somethin has seemed to block all of his memory of the past... well most of them - Indy had been someone different. Yes, every now and then he has that strange burning sensation - as if pushing him to do something dangerous, out of line - but he quickly pushes the (what, he believes, some call courage but he, now, refers to as foolish bravery or rashness, if you will) feeling away. Once upon a time, Indigo was charming, outrageous and brave; he's was the type of boy that girls wouldn't mind getting roses from, receiving chocolates from and would laugh about later on. Quite stubborn in his own right, he had been densest - above all - about matters of love, even though he seemed to be smart in everything else. Contrary to his shy, calculative nature now, he was funny and great -- the type of guy you wouldn't mind being more than friends with. Around his friends, he's was always smiling and laughing with a joke here and there. Though people rarely hear it now, the man had (and still has, believe it or not) one of those rare laughs - you know, the ones that start out as a soft, chuckle and then turn into a grinning, throw-your-head back kind of laugh? His is all of that and everything more. Whenever he laughs - a warm, inviting sound - the people around him can't help but join in; his laugh is simply contagious.

Not that he does much of that now.

Back then, it was almost impossible to not like Indy (his smile, his laughter, his grins, his voice and just everything about him was inviting) but now it's quite hard to even enjoy his company. There's always awkward silences that make's the company around him fidget and surprisingly under confident of himself, he's never sure whether he should initiate things like that, break the ice.

One thing that hasn't been lost on him, except his terribly thoughtful nature (which makes him, often more than not, over analyze things), is his being a gentle men -- you know the ones from the medieval times? When they still had knights in shining armour? The kind of boy to open doors for girls, pay for them, push their chairs in? Indeed, Indy is still that guy. Compared to the average man, he can considered to be quite an oddity; something to stand out from the crowd.

And he's still not sure whether he should like it or not.

Appearance;;
To look upon Indigo is like looking up at a canvas of art that had taken years to complete. With every good painting or drawing the artist must create a support structure or basic outline on which to expand his work. The man is slightly good-looking, being the near-exact mirror image of his father with his perfect teeth and breath-taking charm, but much like his mother - having her pale, soft skin and gentle structure - in the same aspect. Though this subject can be argued upon, most would - eventually - come to the conclusion that he is a rather charming boy, if not undeniably handsome. Even if he doesn't have the same large build or the same flirtatious charm that some males have, and he can't even really be considered a jaw-dropping, muscular guy that girls drool over. However, there's no doubt in the world that he has a certain charm that draws the attention of much of the female gender. He is far from bulky, massive or full of muscles, but his softer curves show a sort of surprisingly lean formality that takes years of hard work to achieve.

Once the painter has finished his outline he begins to fill the painting in with colour and emotion, thus giving the painting a sort of living quality. With a straight, fine jaw that lines his face and healthy darker tanned skin, the male isn't flimsy, overweight, or any such thing. The skin that covers his lean frame is soft and smooth, where as its delicate nature allows people to know that he takes care of his body on the outside just as much as he does on the inside. It is the shockingly tan complexion that also implies he spends the majority of the day outside, rather than hiding in the shadows (as he often does, lost in the secret folds of his mind). A slim nose covers the center of his face, a thoughtful - though serious - line placating his beautiful features and soft, pink lips covering his mouth, accompanied by his usual flat, platonic smile (or frown). He doesn't remember how he received it, but after finding himself conscious and checking to see if there were any visible injuries on his body, Indigo realized something. He had, what looked like, either a horrible scar or a strange - very odd indeed - tattoo. It [bearing the color of a caliginous onyx] lines made of spiraled shapes that seems to swim, faintly, down the expanse of his right shoulder to create an intricate pattern upon the small of his back. Finely knitted eyebrows lay just above his eyes, with lush cheeks of a pale rosy shade and pearly white teeth hiding beneath his lean face.

The face - his eyes, more so - is where his true charm is found. His eyes are a sparkling hue of silver-blue and appear to dive into the very soul of a person as he looks upon them. His eyes - if anything - may be one of the most unique part about this gorgeous fellow. They are unlike both his mother, with her brilliant cobalt pools and emerald orbs that changed colour depending on her mood, and his father with his dark grey pools, flecked with lightest bits of sallowed ebonite. As with most of his traits, it seems that his eyes also come from his father and mother - but in a completely different way. Rarely shining with happiness but instead with unwavering calmness, his deep silver-blue eyes, flecked with the lightest of steely blues or radiant reds, are nearly always cold and warding.

His ruffled hair is stranger than most, being best compared to a scruffy wolf and is surprisingly smoother than most, giving the appearance of a person that seems both serious and dignified though intelligent and dry. It seems to be composed of mainly an blinding honey-white, though there is also streaks of dazzling silver and paler auburn hues hidden beneath. This could be seen as the sloppiest part on Indi, but in actuality it is the most taken care of, but be forewarned that he doesn't take kindly to people making claims that his hair is a sloppy mess.

Though. If you were to look under his shirt upon his chest you would see a long network of elaborate scars. Slithering their way across his cream skin, marring the once flawless torso with white (nearly bleached) disfigurements. The raised puckered skin is not really the most pleasing things to the eyes, more so it is rather repulsive and troubling to gaze at. Because these scar (Not knowing where they came from) are so nicely shown on his cream skin, he has made it a habit to wear at least two tops over his torso to make sure the world is unable to view these horrid blemishes.

•Wolf
To be honest, you don't want to know what Indigo looks like as a wolf. As a sinner. For the people who got close enough to remember his eye colour now have their names printed in marble. For a demon of a wolf he has a rather soft hued pelt. The furs that cloak the lean tall body are of a diluted honey hue. Nearly white with streaks of dazzling gold and splashes of vivid auburn make up the complex patterns the pelt bares. Large paws patter the ground silently as onyx black nails scar the earth with indents every step. A shorter bushy tail looks out of place with the long narrow build of the wolf. Accompanied with a long, muscled neck, which holds a small cranium that looks more fox like then wolf. With a lengthy muzzle portraying from the skull. It seems as though this form had taken most of the human aspects with it. The pelt taking on the hair colour while the striking silver sapphire eyes gleam like diamonds within the sockets. But don't be fooled. Even if his pools have shadowed themselves with heavenly colours, this wolf is far from any sweet pet. Rather, it's the devil in a wolf's disguise.

Skin Colour;; Caucasian

Show me where forever diesTake the fall and run to heavenAll is lost again, but I'm not giving in;;

History;;
When we were children we believed the world was full of magic. We believed in myths and legends, and that destiny awaits. This is the world I remember and the one I wish, I had never known.

So vivid are these thoughts I never considered them reality. The strange air of unreal quality is what made them into a dream. And yet, it never seemed so close to the truth. I don't recall my past, or the people in it. I was adopted at thirteen, not every teenagers idea of bliss. But, it has become harder and harder to ignore these images splashing around in my head. This single dream keeps appearing every time I close my eyes to allow sleep to take me into the unknown. Though I have become familiar with this particular dream, it is always terrifying and leaves me in cold sweat as I awaken from its nightmarish traits. Every time I blink, pictures dance behind my lids. Mocking my ignorance. Is it not only natural I'm starting to question? But where are the answers I seek so strongly?


This dream I will never forget. The sounds, the smells, the sights. It will forever be embossed in my mind as if someone branded it there. These images that haunt me refuse to leave. I'm trapped within my own world. My own hate for what I am.
It all started on that simple November night. My shorts were soaking wet from the melted ice as snow clung to me. The heavens allowed small crystals to seep from its surface and glisten in the moonlight, which coated my home with the most potent and stunning glow. I could smell the snow; it had a kind of tang to it, which I new must be the scent of the clouds. Ah the beautiful scent. My eyes had found my sister, rolling in the snow as if it had been her first time. She was such a small fragile girl. I loved her with all my heart. To see her so happy it just made me feel warm and ever so grateful for my life.

I leaned down, my hands outstretched to the freezing blanket of white. As soon as the tips of my fingers brushed the white powder they recoiled in shock. The chilling sensation that was sent up my arm, was unfamiliar and unnatural. Hesitating for a moment, I leaned down once more grasping the icy snow in my hands. Already the flakes were melting into liquid as it touched my skin. Then with deadly aim I chucked the snow at my still playing sister. It hit her in the side and she looked up to see me. Her eyes were blazing with determination and joy. My own were shining with mocking laughter. I saw her glance at mom and dad (Strangely when ever I dreamed I knew that this man and women were my parents) and I just smiled widely, just like she was doing. But as soon as I heard her move my eyes were back on her. Before I had time to register what was happening snow was sliding down my cheek. I was laughing so hard now my gut was hurting in protest. The muscles tightening and flexing to the point I was nearly yowling and spasming just as my voice was. I quickly then wiped the snow from my face and gave chase to my sister. She was a fast little thing, a speedy feline across the ice. I was trying my best to keep up with her eight year old body, but my thirteen year old mind just couldn't force my muscles to go any faster.

But as soon as my sister froze, I did to. What had she seen? Did she give up? That's when I saw it. The lights in the woods. My whole body tensed up and my mouth parted in a gasp but no sound came out. Then I felt my mother's hand, rough on my own, her horrified expression betraying the panic I knew she was trying to hide. Her other hand laid tightly on my sister, claiming her arm with a maybe to hard clutch. She wouldn't let us go, and by the way her face was twisted in pain I could tell something was wrong.

"Someone's there.


It was my sister who spoke first. Her voice so innocent and shaken it made my heart ache. No… She was too young! I couldn't let her be hurt. I could already feel the warm salty liquid building in my discoloured eyes. Amazingly I had an understanding of the situation, of what was happening.

"Get back in the house."

It was my father this time. His voice was so strict and threatening it made me flinch backwards. Never had he used that tone before. Cringing into my mother's side she did nothing to remove me. Then I registered what was really going on. Mom was pulling Sage and I back to the house, my father on our heels, a little to quickly and panicked to cover up the alarm both were going through. As soon as the warmth hit me it felt like a slap across the face, making my cheeks tingle where the snow had touched me. As soon as dad was inside he was locking the door and reacting for his gun… gun? Dad wasn't hunting. He never touched his gun unless. NO! I was surprised I hadn't screamed those words out loud. My knees locked like a startled colt as I started shaking violently. Mother had pulled away from Sage and I, and was now packing quickly. NO! I screamed again in my head. I was unable to force my lips to part so I could speak.


I watched as Sage rushed past me to the couch. Her hands clutched at her porcelain doll. It's blond hair a mess and it's thin body cloaked by a simple dress. Much like the one Sage was wearing herself. I went up to her, ghosting her footsteps. I was to scared to be away from her. I placed my arm around her; I then noticed I was still shaking. The trembles shaking her small body as well. My knees were bent awkwardly as my arms locked in place. I couldn't ever begin to describe this pain that was burning through my veins. I had never known hate. I had never tasted it on my tongue as I did now. It felt like someone let acid go through my system, eating everything in its path painful slow. What a disgustingly powerful feeling.


Mom had everything packed and was coming towards Sage and I. I saw my sister glanced at dad and I followed her eyes. My father was looking out the window, his own face twisted and marred under his composure. Once he glanced at us I saw him slip, his face was so troubled it made me shake more aggressively. When he nodded my mom instantly started pulling Sage and I to our basement. By rules we weren't allowed down there. I never knew why but I was sure I was about to find out. But when Sage couldn't move I stopped to and watched dad for the wrong minute. The door was open and before I knew it. I could hear the bang as the trigger was pulled, the sound of air splitting following right after. My mouth gapped open in a silent scream. But the scream in the air was not mine.

"Daddy!"


It was Sage who screamed. It was Sage who couldn't understand yet saw her father be shot right before her eyes, right on the threshold of our house. I could see the tears that were tainting her skin, I wanted to hide her, wipe them away and then kill those men. My sadness was quickly replaced by pure rage. I could feel my skin crawling and shivering with the emotions. I wanted to taste their blood and tear their skin from the bones. I wanted them dead and I wanted them dead now.

The smell of the blood was over powering. I would have lurched forwarded maybe even pucked if my mom had not pushed me to the stairs in the basement. I had seen the horror on my mom's face and I knew Dad wouldn't be coming back. He was really dead…. I didn't look back but I heard mom slam the door shut and start to lock it. I was running down the stairs. If I stopped for a minute I would lose myself to my fury. I tried not to focus, tried not to think as my feet flew over the wood. Each step the boards under me moaned in protest. That was when I noticed my mother was still trying to get the lock to work when I heard footsteps. Sharp tapping of heavy boots on wooden floors, it came closer along with the tapping of canine claws. Before I could scream at my mother to move she was down the stairs curled in pain. It had only been two shots and a scream, so quickly it happened I didn't even register what had just taken place till my mother started yelling in agony. NO! I wanted to shriek but I found my lips closed in pain once more.


"RUN INDIGO! SAGE!"

Some how my mother found her voice and was yowling at us. Then I smelled it before it was burning my eyes. The oil and smoke, which belonged to the fire. I could hear it eating at the dry woods my home was made of. Who were these people, taking my family and my home from me?! I wanted to hurt something, kill something. I could feel the heat pushing against my skin and I knew I had to get Sage out of the house. Her lungs were smaller then mine. They would surely collapse if she inhaled smoke. I moved my hands to her arms and yanked her towards the north end of our basement .It was instinct for me to pull her in that direction considering I have never been down here before. I was running. I didn't know I had tears running down my cheeks. I was unable to categories the many burnings of my body. Fire licked at my ankles, burning the skin and peeling away the blond hairs that once had laid there. I would have yelped out, but I was too angry to care. Everything was already so painful.

By some luck I found the other door, I ripped it open the chains snapping under my grip as it shredded into my hand. Blood splashed across the ground, tainting the wood and steel with the thick maroon hue of my blood.

By some luck I found the other door, I ripped it open the chains snapping under my grip as it shredded into my hand. Blood splashed across the ground, tainting the wood and steel with the thick maroon hue of my blood. The smell that was assaulting my senses was strong and potent. Sage didn't notice my oozing hand as I pushed her through the exit, shoving her body into the snow as she whimpered in protest. I didn't even recognize my own pained voice.

"Sage! Run! Sister! RUN! "

Her eyes... So sadden and twisted, I nearly thought my heart was going to combust then. The pain didn't stop, not for a moment as she whirled on her feet and ran headlong to the forest. Soon her form vanished among the trees. Shadows chasing her while licking across her skin. I had to convince myself she would be safe in the shadow. I knew mother would die, so crawling through the narrow door way, I scrambled in the snow. All of a sudden the snarling and barking of madden dogs filled my ears and I found myself watching three black hounds running after my sibling. How dare they sick dogs on a child! New fresh anger lashed through me, engulfing me in an uncontrolled displeasure. Deep base laughter of older men filled the night, with the frighten screams of a child and the hungry howls of the hounds. Doubling over my own body I let the tears fall, let them leave long lines down my exhausted face. Though... Everything became a blur. My rage, my blood, the smells and sounds. All awareness was stripped from me like the very memories I looked for from my earlier childhood.
Why?

This is when I awaken in cold sweat; nearly screaming and so terrified each time. And yet, somehow I think that these events are somehow true. My adoptive mother, a young women with no husband or other children was always kind but did little to try and understand me. I was thankful for that. She tells me that I was found half frozen to death in the local pool. The authorities had thought someone had tried to commit murder, but when no records were found of who I was or what had happened the case went cold. The police came nearly every day back then questioning me, and doctors worried about my mental stability. My adoptive mother doesn't like to talk about the day she took me in; she says it gives her nightmares still. I was told I looked so frightened and twisted that she thought I might have been horribly abused. Yet I hold no sour flavour for any person. But I do in general for society. Fitting into school was hell, I didn't understand anything they tried feeding my brain. Fractions? Adding? What the heck was all this numbers and symbols. Never had I seen such a thing. Even being blonde it didn't take me long to catch on and soon I was at the same grade level as the others my age. Never though did they accept me. Sure girls would be attracted now and again, but I have become so bitter they are nervous to walk near me. The guys feel it to; they shy away from my touch or cringe if I bump them. It's impossible to understand. So for the rest of my teen years I was alone, my adoptive mom and I. Don't get me wrong, I loved her company for she never hovered. But she would sometimes worry herself sick, and that upset me. Was I really this much of a trouble to society? So here I am twenty-one, young and a jerk. Got to love life!


Likes;;
+ chocolate. I mean, I know that it's a girl thing and all ...but forgive me if i retain the world-wide love of the sugary delicacy.

+ fast cars. It's in my nature...now, that is...a need for speed that I love to feed. oh, god...I'm rhyming now...

+ Reading. It's one of my favorite ways to pass the endless days and nights since I cannot enjoy sleeping the way most can.

+ rock music. You'll have to excuse me if that sounds a bit...out of /nature/ for my nature...but I rather think it's appropriate...mostly. I like to tune it in while I'm hunting, actually, helps get me 'get in the mode'.

+ classical music. ah, the stark contrast...while not hunting music, it's very relaxing if I feel like ripping someone's head off. Literally.

+ Singing. contrary to popular belief that hard-ass and rather cynical people with a slightly crazy twist cannot sing...if that is a popular belief...I actually have a rather nice voice. Alto with a rather husky tempre.
Dislikes;;
x ditzy girls. I honestly don't know how men can abide by them? Who wants someone who flashes their chest everywhere and then laughs hysterically at something that's not even funny? Good lord, if I had control over shifting...

x humans. Call them vermin, call this a lame 'dislike' because it is common knowledge that we hate them, but it's the truth so here it goes.

x pink. There it is. Not the band, not the word for victoria's secret... The color. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck!

x history class. Oh, god, the constant reminder that I'm not getting any younger ...and learning it over and over and over again...do you know how many times i've been in highschool?

x rap music. Rawr... That shouldn't even be called 'music'... It's just a bunch of shouting rude things and clapping and whistling or whatever...rubbish, utter rubbish.

x airplanes. I know, I know...laugh at me, but I hate riding in airplanes...I know I couldn't...like, die in them or anything, but...yes. i still have yet to see what there is to gain from throwing a bunch of metal up into the sky and hoping that it gets somewhere un-scathed.

I will not bow, I will not breakI will shut the world away I will not fall, I will not fadeI will take your breath away;;

Special abilities;;[if any]
Supernatural- Loup-garoux - werewolf
The French term for werewolf. Unlike the werewolf legends, Loup-Garoux can turn at will. The Full Moon has no effect on them whatsoever. You cannot become a Loup-Garoux. You are either born one, or not. Silver can kill them. So can normal bullets, piercing through the heart-as is done with vampires-, and fire. They are not cursed, but blessed. They are more powerful than man, more powerful than beast. It is said that when they turn, they are not the disfigured hairy beasts society has made them out to be, but beautiful creatures. They look just like wolves, but slightly larger.

Well there's a million girls, who do it just like you looking as innocent as possible to get to who they want and what they like its easy if you do it right, well I refuse;;

Crush;; n/a
Relationship status;; Single
Sexuality;; Pansexual
Relationship history;;
Had a relationship in his teenage years which ended horribly over his severe mood swings and periodically emotionally abusive fits. Since then, he refuses to get into relationships and considers love a child’s tale.

And I'll survive, paranoidI have lost the will to change JAnd I am not proud, cold blooded, fake I will shut the world away;;

RPG Sample;;
Password;;
outcast_

I will not bow, I will not breakI will shut the world awayAI will not fall, I will not fade 'I will take your breathaway;;

Alright. So this template is ⓒ. If you steal it Imma nom nom your face and serve it to you on a brick platter. Lyrics are ⓒ to Breaking Benjamin [Sex!]. And last but not least, the song is I Will Not Bow.

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