3100: Misguided - Katrina Stone
TITLE: Misguided
PERPETRATOR: Jenevieve.k
SUE-O-METER:
(toxic)
COVER/BANNER ART: The cover is a picture of an angel.
FULL NAME: Katrina Stone
SPECIES: She is a Light Veela.
HAIR: silver
EYES: Honestly not sure.
MARKINGS: She has a ton of injuries. “Of corse being a Veela she was beautiful even with the dried blood on her face and grease and dirt in her long silver hair. That was also the reason he was the only person with the key to her cell, he couldn't have his comrades try to violate her, even though he could and the thought had lingered in his sickened mind more than once. Though, for some reason something always stoped him with going through with his thoughts. And also that would violate her spirit jewel and they needed that power source.” “He noticed that after three months, she was now a living, well barely living skeleton, hanging on to life with a thread of determination and a shorter thread of strength.” Nine chapters in and I feel like the story is going nowhere.
POSSESSIONS: We find out in chapter nine that she has wings. (She's a VEELA, not an ANGEL!)
CONNECTION TO CANON: She is being held prisoner. Harry has dreams about her they go to rescue her and there is a ton of angst.
ORIGIN: “Voldermort is after the Light Veelas, a dying race, to steal their powers. Will Harry and the crew be able to defeat him? Dumbledore stumble's upon Katrina, a Light Veela in need of rescuing. Can she help? Or is the past just too damaging?”
SPECIAL ABILITIES: She is one of the last of a non-existent dying off race. “Voldermort is after the Light Veelas, a dying race, to steal their powers. Will Harry and the crew be able to defeat him? Dumbledore stumble's upon Katrina, a Light Veela in need of rescuing. Can she help? Or is the past just too damaging?”
NOTES: There is no such thing as a winged basilisk (reference to another fic featured here) and there is no such thing as a light veela.
SAMPLE:
Excruciating pain ran throughout her body as she tried to move, so the pain was less bearable on her side. The pale girl's face stung as it made contact with the ice cold dungeon floor, which the only source of cushioning, was a thin layer of mould, cast like a blanket across the stones. It seemed even the cell she was in, was trying it's hardest to make her more uncomfortable. Muscles cramped, shaking from the cold and the pain settled in around the battered body. Burning and bloodshot eyes looked to the only window in the room, if you could call it a window. A tiny rectangle situated at the top of the twelve feet by twelve stone walls, which loomed all around the figure. She could see that the sun was beginning to rise, if her muscles had of let her, they would have let a tiny smile slip. As the only source of warmth hit the dirt and blood smeared face, the fireball in the sky began to fill the tiny rectangle with light. Eyes drifted shut, and blocked everything out, the pain, the despair, and the feeling of being alone through it all. The sound of heeled boots on the stone floors hit heightened hearing, as they came closer to the cell door. The already abused body's muscles tensed, prepared for anything they would be hit with, moving so that she was sitting up against the back wall facing the rotten sandal wood door, which a decaying smell was emitting from. Struggling to catch her breath from moving her battered self to the other side of the room. Forcing a look of calm, stubbornness and pride would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her weak and defenceless. Seeing the slight gap between the door and floor, a flickering orange light teased her eyes.
PERPETRATOR: Jenevieve.k
SUE-O-METER:
(toxic)
COVER/BANNER ART: The cover is a picture of an angel.
FULL NAME: Katrina Stone
SPECIES: She is a Light Veela.
HAIR: silver
EYES: Honestly not sure.
MARKINGS: She has a ton of injuries. “Of corse being a Veela she was beautiful even with the dried blood on her face and grease and dirt in her long silver hair. That was also the reason he was the only person with the key to her cell, he couldn't have his comrades try to violate her, even though he could and the thought had lingered in his sickened mind more than once. Though, for some reason something always stoped him with going through with his thoughts. And also that would violate her spirit jewel and they needed that power source.” “He noticed that after three months, she was now a living, well barely living skeleton, hanging on to life with a thread of determination and a shorter thread of strength.” Nine chapters in and I feel like the story is going nowhere.
POSSESSIONS: We find out in chapter nine that she has wings. (She's a VEELA, not an ANGEL!)
CONNECTION TO CANON: She is being held prisoner. Harry has dreams about her they go to rescue her and there is a ton of angst.
ORIGIN: “Voldermort is after the Light Veelas, a dying race, to steal their powers. Will Harry and the crew be able to defeat him? Dumbledore stumble's upon Katrina, a Light Veela in need of rescuing. Can she help? Or is the past just too damaging?”
SPECIAL ABILITIES: She is one of the last of a non-existent dying off race. “Voldermort is after the Light Veelas, a dying race, to steal their powers. Will Harry and the crew be able to defeat him? Dumbledore stumble's upon Katrina, a Light Veela in need of rescuing. Can she help? Or is the past just too damaging?”
NOTES: There is no such thing as a winged basilisk (reference to another fic featured here) and there is no such thing as a light veela.
SAMPLE:
Excruciating pain ran throughout her body as she tried to move, so the pain was less bearable on her side. The pale girl's face stung as it made contact with the ice cold dungeon floor, which the only source of cushioning, was a thin layer of mould, cast like a blanket across the stones. It seemed even the cell she was in, was trying it's hardest to make her more uncomfortable. Muscles cramped, shaking from the cold and the pain settled in around the battered body. Burning and bloodshot eyes looked to the only window in the room, if you could call it a window. A tiny rectangle situated at the top of the twelve feet by twelve stone walls, which loomed all around the figure. She could see that the sun was beginning to rise, if her muscles had of let her, they would have let a tiny smile slip. As the only source of warmth hit the dirt and blood smeared face, the fireball in the sky began to fill the tiny rectangle with light. Eyes drifted shut, and blocked everything out, the pain, the despair, and the feeling of being alone through it all. The sound of heeled boots on the stone floors hit heightened hearing, as they came closer to the cell door. The already abused body's muscles tensed, prepared for anything they would be hit with, moving so that she was sitting up against the back wall facing the rotten sandal wood door, which a decaying smell was emitting from. Struggling to catch her breath from moving her battered self to the other side of the room. Forcing a look of calm, stubbornness and pride would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her weak and defenceless. Seeing the slight gap between the door and floor, a flickering orange light teased her eyes.