Profile
the still, cold world
"She will give the devil his due."
there are plenty of stories about what waits in the shadows. what drags children off to a dreadful fate if they stray from their parents' sides. what kills, what eats, what strikes fear into the whisperer's heart.
hellhound, the hunter is a sniper. that's her day job, at least, unknown to the public: she serves as the right hand of the leader of a crime syndicate called the unseen. her boss, sanya triskel, has trained her for years to be a ruthless, loyal killing machine.
that isn't what that makes people afraid of her, however. it's what she does to people when she put the gun down. her other targets – separate from the sniper victims, perhaps differentiated only by her mood – are found beaten and torn to a bloody pulp. rumors have started and spread that beyond the known trait of smoke wisping off of the ends of her hair, she has red eyes, fangs. when you make her angry... that's when the wolf comes out.
every account of her transformation is different. some say she has many heads or many eyes, human arms and wolf's legs, or she turns into a pack of hellhounds rather than one. some say she only takes on a few wolfish features, like fangs, claws, but the red eyes are present every time.
why the hellhound kills who she kills when off the job is not publicly known. the true name of the hellhound is not publicly known. if you see her, it's imperative that you run.
Details
Likes
- good whiskey
- jams & jellies
- flowers
- rooftops
Dislikes
- most people
- tight spaces
- politicians
- crowds
Personality
loyal
to a fault. this particularly applies to her brother, leto aisa, and her boss, sanya. if she considers someone close, she would do just about anything for them – destroy, kill or die. anything, no questions asked. she's protective, too: if there is a perceived threat, hellhound will eliminate it without remorse, even if they're doing the right thing (she doesn't particularly give a shit about the right thing.)
violent
it is very easy to incite the hound to violence; piss her off, and you may find yourself with a mouth full of prosthetic knuckles. she has no qualms about committing violence: with a group called the shrikes, under the orders of sanya, she helped blow up the tallest tower in her city, swallowing the faint, repressed guilt that came with it.
cold
making friends with hellhound is... difficult. she's standoffish, hostile, and obviously uncaring, and while some emotional appeals will move her, most of her feelings have been so deeply suppressed that she comes off as more fortress than human. (that being said, it is a fortress, emotional defenses that have been up for so long she can't distinguish them from her true self anymore.)
cautious
paranoid would be a better word for it, really. there is a hyper-vigilant air to hellhound (term chosen purposefully) that keeps her on edge at all times without rest. every person is an enemy until proven otherwise. every space is unsafe by default. she is always looking for something to distrust, and usually, she finds it. on the upside, this makes her a great bodyguard.
angry
along with that constant, crackling suspicion, there is something deeper to hellhound that becomes obvious only after interacting with her for an extended period of time: she is angry. something deep inside her is rotten, and it comes out in the way she punctuates her words like sharp edges, the way she looks at people, the way she lets something loose when she gets violent with a murder victim – it's usually leashed, but when it's not, things get very ugly very fast.
lonely
i mean, are you surprised? spend every second of your life pushing people away, and you're going to have no one left. hellhound spends almost all of her time alone. when she's not tucked away into an abandoned apartment unit or sniper nest, she's traversing rooftops away from the public. people know her by her hair and her arms; being seen as the boogeyman of the city is problematic. besides, she likes spending time alone. there's something peaceful to it.
Aesthetic
Summary
I. QUEEN OF SWORDS
In the floating, sunless city of Duskwall, a man was murdered. He was the son of a Steward of Knowledge and the Encroaching Cold, the largest institution furthering scientific advancement in Duskwall, and he had been quietly living a married life until the night he was dismembered, his limbs scattered across the street he lived on. Witnesses from the windows saw a tall, spindly figure darting from the scene, her knee-length inky hair wisping into smoke behind her. The closer witnesses described to the Bluecoats, Duskwall's police force, that her fangs glistened with fresh blood as she panted, teeth bared, posture hunched and animalistic. Thus began the Hellhound stories.
II. THE HANGED MAN
One victim every few months turned into one victim a month, then one a fortnight. As more people witnessed her grisly crimes, the stories became more detailed, vibrant. Hellhound herself fanned the flames wherever she could. The rumors gave her power. The more they hated her, the stronger her upper hand became. They learned of her prosthetic arms, seeming never to merge with flesh even when her sleeves were rolled up. They learned of the gun she carried but never used, a sniper rifle slashing a sharp diagonal through her silhouette. They learned of her crimson eyes.
The person behind Hellhound is much quieter than the persona would have one believe. The hunt is where she lets out the pent-up rage constantly simmering under the surface; outside of that, she spends days at a time lying in wait to complete sniper jobs for the Unseen. So it has been for much of her adult life. So it will be, for the forseeable future. How she came to be this way – cold, furious, violent – is unclear, and prying it out of her is unlikely at best, but does it really matter?
INTERLUDE.
Fine. You really want to know what happened in the beginning, before it all became such a mess? Read on. I wouldn't be the narrator of this tragedy if I didn't know the whole story.
[ BLADES IN THE DARK PARTY: DON'T READ BEYOND THIS POINT PLEASE! ]
III. THE MOON
LETO AISA
[ brother ]
they haven't spoken for three years. she would do anything for him, but their falling-out was severe. persephone doesn't even know he's getting married soon.
SANYA TRISKEL
[ boss ]
sanya broke persephone down and rebuilt her by their own hand. her devotion to them is unhealthy, dangerous, and just about her only anchor to a clear head as humanity slips further and further away from her.
SWEET CICELY, THE FLOWER KNIGHT
[ crewmate ]
complicated. he gives her gifts relentlessly, he pries into her business, he commands attention and takes up space – and yet, in his own way, he's ... nice. hellhound finds herself wishing she wasn't too far gone to trust him.
HTML by Eggy
3:04
Welcome back, HOUND.
You have 0 new notifications.
Mon, 1 Jan, 12:31 am
we're supposed to use these as personal diaries. therapy is anti-crime-org, i'm sure. supposedly encrypted/private, but there's no way sanya can't get in, is there? i mean. come on. they can see everything.
anyway, new job. supposed to be 6 months max, undercover, no contact? probably fine, i think the time period will be more like "six months or until i get bored"
back
why bother
Thank you for taking our quiz!
Based on your answers, you are:
Extroverted 93%
Introverted
Intuitive 90%
Observant
Thinking 22%
Feeling
Judging 15%
Prospecting
Assertive 57%
Turbulent
I don't know why we're supposed to make these. I shoot people, and that's all.
- good whiskey
- gun polish
- fuck you
- people
- people in politics
- people who are alive
- Marksmanship
- Knowledge of toxicology
- Paid protection
4 : 0 2
W E L C O M E
persephone
@colchicine
Followers
9042
Following
05
TONGUES & TEETH
⚬ istj ⚬ ⚬ challenger ⚬ ⚬ melancholic ⚬
show your fangs
- #hellhoundmurders
- sniper
- poisoner
- hitman
- bodyguard
Trivia
- has an alphabetized journal of poisons
- smells like a campfire
- sharp palette
LIKES
- seafood
- black coffee
- cool knives
- dogs
DISLIKES
- you, probably
- beer
- hot weather
- holidays
DAMAGE /ˈdæm ɪdʒ/
noun
1. like a crow trapped in your belly and beating to be freed. such a living weight. such a wild, screaming weight, black-bodied and porous-boned. it grapples inside you, it grapples to be outside you, to leave the shreds of your skin for brighter, stronger skies.
2. it is a hungry ghost that dogs your stretched-thin shadow. hungry ghost, understand? you are substance and blood; it is air and echoes, nothing more. when it tries to swallow you whole, fight back. you have peace, laughter, love in the armory of your soul.
3. life gets hard sometimes. i know, darling. look at me. you are not broken beyond repair. you are always capable of mending. you will always mend.
POMEGRANATE
/ˈpɒmˌgræn ɪt/
noun
1. crocuses, irises, hyacinths. crushed olives, gold honey, and wine. hips, hands, shoulder blades. distant torches and distant shouts. running, running, running into the dark.
2. his warm, chapped lips skim over her pulse and in the namme of every deathless god, she is hungry.
3. only if you wish, he says. i would never try to bind you down here. she gazes at him. the fire in her eyes is a burnished red, like her mother's spring-damp roses. of course, she says, and pulls out her carving knife to slice the fruit open.
GHOST /goʊst/
noun
1. your soul a quiet cello hum swept through long, empty hallways. your soul a dizzzy, unkempt breeze. your soul a white daisy unbloomed. your soul so soft and full of shuddering.
2. they found your bones piled in the dark fern bushes and you've never been the same since. you were brought home, but a part of you is still there, green leaves plastered to your cold skin, black soil staining your hands. an ache deep in the pit of you for anything besides this great, terrible silence born of feeling unalive.
3. dried blood beneath candy-colored band-aids. your fists like rusted switchblades. the heart inside you silver, wet, wriggling. you have returned. you have returned.
wolf like me
- got a curse i cannot lift
- shines when the sunset shifts
- there's a curse, comes with a kiss
- the bite that binds, the gift that gives
- ( dictionary poems by keaton st. james )
to be continued . . .
⚬ the wolf ⚬
N O T E S
- persephone's eyes turn red when she's in a murderous mindset
- a long scar ropes around one side of her neck
- her prosthetic arms go all the way up to her shoulders, which were fully rebuilt from carbon fiber and outfitted with sockets for her arms
persephone @colchicine
i'm busy. fucking stop messaging me, all of you
someone clearly needs their beauty sleep ;)
especially you
haha, no
bitch
persephone @colchicine
just killed a guy ama
bones?
what the fuck does this mean
This is a main reply
this is a sub reply
Name
69 Followers | 420 Following
word word word word
Name
The community sees you in a [Positive/Negative/Neutral] light! Around 80% of reviews described you as [Virtue/Sin]! 20% of reviews say you should work on your [Virtue/Sin].
Current Choirs(s): one, two, three
Group A
Name
Relationship
"write your characters thoughts about the character linked here."
Name (Name)
Relationship
"Match sure the id="" are different from each other, but are matching with the correct href="". the buttons will not work if they are not linked together!"
Name
Relationship
"..."
Name
Relationship
"..."
Group B
Name
Relationship
"..."
Name
Relationship
"..."
Group C
Name
Relationship
"..."
@OcUserName's
Reviews
Last Read: ∞:∞ AM
Last Read: ∞:∞ AM
The LOVE Corperation
