SHADOWHUNTER :: Kiera Niamh Penhallow [WIP]

[Windy]

Your Name: Windy<3
Requested Character: Kiera Niamh Penhallow, Shadowhunter Extraordinaire and Official Pain in Your Caboose
Appearance:

Words about hair and how annoying and messy it is and how it was once in dreadlocks and that would be totally cool to do again someday but the Lightwoods think it looks trashy. Words about vicious smile and a tongue like a viper hidden behind a row of tiger teeth ready to rip you apart. Words about body being a little curvy and voluptuous in all the right ways, though squeezing through fences is hard with larger hips and it gets annoying. Words about Marks for all the normal stuff errrwherrre and then the one on her lower back for serenity, but it's drawn wrong and doesn't work right so temper goes overboard still and stuff gets broken. Works about doing henna tattoos around the marks to make them look cooler and to be a rebel because the Lightwoods think it will mess with her attributes.

Personality:

Words about being a bit of a wild child with a history of getting in trouble for doing things like trespassing on private property, dipping into the forbidden weed, and pilfering some food. Words about having a temper that blows up at the slightest touch, especially when the Lightwoods say words they shouldn't or threaten things that she's not sure she can take. Words about being calmed by Avon because she's the only girl that she can actually stand most of the time. Words about being intelligent and quick witted, especially when around Kaelen which is just the worst combination, but it just feels too good. Words about feeling hopeless when it comes to controling urges and angers and hating not being in the driver's seat of her own personality.

History:

Words about having a "perfect life in Idris", painting the fantasy before throwing in the reality check. Words about always having anger problems and an insatiable need to move which led to one to many arguments with mother and father. Words about getting kicked out and not knowing where to go for a while, wandering around without a thought of what to do with life when all she could offer was contempt and unreliability. Words about landing in Chicago and intending on shacking up at the Institute for a day until a chance encounter with a boy that had a knack for chess tethered her down to a home she could rely on. Words about bonding with Avon after they were assigned a simple watch duty that lead to talking about everything. Words about disliking the Lightwood parents after realizing just how badly they treat Kae, and lashing out at them with barely restrained rage before walking out for a week. Words about returning and getting right back into the swing of things, causing just a bit more mischeif with Kae just to spite the Lightwoods. Words about liking fighting because it helps her focus all of her energy, all of her malice, into one thing that she could kick the stuffing out of. Words about getting into trouble with Downworlders cause she frequents their hangouts, but hey, you can't blame her for looking for good company.

Sample Post:

Words about going to a party in Idris in a bit of an old-style speakeasy on the outer rim. Words about walking back through Idris in silence, trying to find something to focus on. Words about sneaking back into her house and her parents waiting up for her. Words about screaming, yelling, crying, begging, pleading. Words about packing up her bags under supervision and peacing out of the house with a resounding slam of a life she could never walk back into as simply as she'd walked out. Words about trying to find out where she should go or what she would be and contemplate living as a mundane, but rule it out cause it's a stupid idea. Words about passing the barrier and not being sure if she'll ever go back.

[Windy]

(species) nephelim
(classification) shadowhunter, youngin' class
(seraph blade) zadkiel, of solace, charity, and gentleness
(parabatai) avon lightwood
(age) sixteen
(gender) female
(sexuality) heterosexual

i feel like i’m spinning out of control
try to focus but everything’s twisted
and all along i thought you would be there

(appearance)

I don’t remember looking at this haunted face of a girl in the mirror just a few days ago. Perhaps it was a few months ago that I’d actually looked, to be honest. I’d been on the move too often to take the time to grab a real impression of what I’d become. Now, sitting here in the middle of a night darker than a demon’s eyes, I cannot help but stare at the monster-wrecked girl who sits opposite of me, just beyond the looking glass and yet so far away from reprieve. She cannot be saved from what she has become. No, she is trapped in a tangle of curls that trail thick and heavy across her shoulders and back. The curls used to be tight and matted into long winding dreadlocks, but those had long ago been washed away with Lightwood incredulity. Now the knots simply wove her head of hissing spindles of brown and blonde and black together into a nest of angry spiraling snakes, a simple sign to back the fuck off before being turned to stone sounds like a blessing from the Archangel Gabriel himself. If the snakes don’t ward you off, her teeth should. Her canines are sharp to the touch and willing to snap at anyone who dare get too near. She’s got smile more wicked than Lilith and a smirk more sinful than the Devil himself, each glinting grin framed by plump lips criss-crossed with bite marks and cracks from constant worry. Just above, her tiny pointed nose is pierced with silver rings. The same rings like her ears like ladder rungs. Her eyes are no different than the rest of her face, sharp and piercing. With pupils blown wider than a blissed-out cat rimmed in dark kohl and narrowed to a slit, she can cut you down without even needing to use the viper caught behind tiger teeth. If needed, that poison will sizzle you to the base instead of just make you step back. It’s not like the heavy make-up is needed though. The purple rings around her eyes sans-make-up are dark enough to scare a little child into thinking she’s the boogeyman come to eat their souls. The constant training and missions and continual sleep deprivation do nothing to improve on her already low looks and her borderline nonexistent patience with people. At least they have the warning sign of a bitch-faced scowl.

My reflected self looks at me with curious, sad eyes as I stand and back away, so tempted to turn my back on shattered glass and memories. I cannot look away from her though, taking in all that she is in form. She’s not a beauty queen in figure, her shoulders a little broader and her hips a little wider than she’d like despite her lack of eating and constant toil. It makes it nearly impossible to sneak in and out of fenced off places and half-opened doors or crawl through small spaces when her hips are wider than a hippos and refuse to squeeze through the last little inch. Her height doesn't help the whole sneaking process either, even with the added aid of Marks and friends alike. She was built for fighting, a warrior of encounter, not espionage. The pallor of her skin is made all the more pronounced by the swirling inklings of hoped traits and desperate needs up and down her arms and around her torso and weaving in intricate patterns down her legs. The normal Marks for agility and silence and stability and alertness and others are pronounced on her arms, each one delicately outlined and highlighted with rich brown henna designs along their borders, despite the indignant reproach of the Lightwoods. The Marks were sacred; not to be tampered with. The faded criss-crossed paper cut scars across her skin are a patchwork of Marks gone right and gone forever, leaving behind a tracing-board of white lines across every inch of her body. One darkened black Mark in particular has never faded. The incomplete and incorrect swirls of patience lie forever on the small of her back, unusable and unchangeable. It’s no wonder she’s never been able to hold back her howling rage.

Everything that that ghost in my mirror is is my flesh and blood. She, the demon of my nightmares and goddess of my soul, lingers in me without a hope of changing. Who am I if not the girl with the malicious intent rattled across gleaming teeth in a vicious hiss? Who am I if not the callous bitch who throws a tantrum at the slightest of quips from the lowly knaves of my world? Who am I if not a broken shadow of strength meant to support mountains and smite demons? I am a nothing, the dust of existence and a leaf in the gutter of the city of winds. My tired, sunken eyes stare back at me in sleepy resolution, a hand reaching out to find solace that will never come from the broken reflection of a girl I wish I didn’t know.

thought you would be there
to let me know i’m not alone
but in fact that’s exactly what i was

(personality)

words words words

i’m spinning out of control
out of control
i’m spinning out of control

(history)

words words words

where should i go?
what should i do?
i don’t understand what you want from me

(sampling)

words words words

cause i don’t know
if i can trust you
all of the things you’ve said to me
i may never know the answer
to this endless mystery

(song) mother superior
(artist) coheed and cambria
(playby) Sierra Kusterbeck
(other) TBD