Emelia Erost

Personality :
Patient
 The waiting game is a game Emelia plays and often, enjoys. People watching, planning, letting things happen as they happen, she sets thing out and up and lets all the chess pieces play however they wish. In the game called life she considers her existence as something that isn't meant to be driven or rushed into situations; She sees no point in speeding her plans or relationships along. No, she prefers let time do her work for her.

Simple
 Lifesytle wise, she wants nothing more then to spend her day playing, dicking around, and not having to worry about anything. She's not an idiot, but she is a being of wants and needs. She isn't that complex of a person to understand. Mental wise, she isn't simple. She can form complex thoughts and plans provided they are going to reward her basic desires. What she wants...she wants.

Playful
 WHY SO SRS? The few things she is serious about are her things. Her desires. Fuck everything else, she's just there to hang out and enjoy life. There is not point in living if you don't just let loose and live right? Right?

Devoid of Empathy
 Does she really care? No, she doesn't. Emelia honestly doesn't care about others and their personal feelings, wants, or desires. She considers the emotions of other their own problems and issues, focusing on her own before even sparing a thought to think about another. Her emotions, her wants and needs, come above all others.

Greedy
 If something belongs to Emelia, it belongs to her. If she gets fixated on a desire or want she will covet it. She is a pool of want and needs. After she tires of them, she often move on, but she is 'always' wanting something from someone or something. 'Never' caring, 'never' selfless. Her need to have things is just that, an endless need to have for the pure sake of having it.

Guilty
 A huge part of her is hiding the fact Emelia is guilty of being a witch eater and cannot get over herself. She fell in love with a witch and repaid her kindness and love by killing her and eating her heart. Emelia feels guilty of this, and in her self created sorrow, she has lost her ability to 'give a damn'. This trait can be read as overpowering the others but this is what under lies the surface. She's coping with her 'crime' by taking more and causing self destruction in her actions or lack of. 

 Each day was said to be a new chance at life. In this, saying it suggests that each night you die with the onset of sleep, and by a miracle, (or perhaps magic), you were reborn the next morning. Emelia didn’t like this saying for one very specific, precise reason; the fact that it reflected a moment in her reality. A moment where part of her died at night, and by dawn, she had been reborn into a new life.
 She’d been born as a majin, and had known the hunger, an inescapable force that lingered in the back of her mind, the tip of tongue, begging to be sated. Magic called to magic, and she was weak to the siren’s lure of it. For years she had resisted. In the school, she bit her lip, would shuffle away ever so slightly when the hunger became present, demanding to be sated. Over time it got easier to ignore. Over time, she got better at hold back, those nervous habits lessening and almost becoming a faded memory.
 When the trail came and she was tested she almost failed, but she’d passed, succeeded, become a witch. That was good a memory for her, a happy one. Her ‘friends’ congratulating, cheering, hugging her and holding her telling her how well she’d done. Even now, a smile would form on her lips recalling the aroma in the air that night, the feeling of wind on her skin, the sight of lights dancing in her vision.

 The hunger subsided for a long time, just those tickles. Those little pricks asking for needless attention like an irksome child crying for no reason. She was a witch, and soon she would say to herself, soon she would be able to live peacefully, alone, free do as she pleased, live as she pleased.
 But fate called out, and made her heart sing. Another witch, her voice like bells, and her smile as innocent and pure as spring rain. Long ago Emelia has sworn to never become close, to become ‘attached’. Yet she had. Sunshine and sugar filled her days, the witch from the country selling her baked goods and always stopping to give her a little something extra, and light shy smile from under soft mint eyes.
 It has been a warm night, the rain washing away the day’s toils and leaving only innocent pure water in it’s wake. It had started with a kiss. Soft and kind. One after another, and with each kiss the sweet taste of summer rain and confectioner’s sugar filled her senses. How could she have resisted the siren’s call so close? The pulse of her heart beating just as fast ad the water running down the roof and into the storm drain. The scream swallowed by a soft kiss and the crash of thunder, the lightning casting a glittering shadow as glazed frosting glittered in the lamplight.
 The scent of baked goods left the town, the mint eyes and kind smiles vanished, and the sound of a voice didn’t ring out offering treats in celebration.
 Emelia had opened her eyes to the morning’s light and smiled, her bed was soft and still warm, the birds on her windowsill still sang, while she smiled despite the small stain of sadness as two tiny wings fluttered on her back. Her first witch heart, and the siren’s call was now nothing more than a lost memory. The annoying thirst was quenched. Love was such a fleeting thing. What use was love, when she could devour all she magic she wanted with a simple act? What was the use of soft, shy, mint eyes, when you never really had a heart to start with?