{ooc} application & character profile; player info
Player
Name & Nicks: Kelly/Kinks.
LJ Username: xx_frenzy
AIM: x0GoggleGirl0x
Character
Name: Cirucci Thunderwitch
Series: Bleach
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Boat, Position: The Silvana, passenger.
Appearance: Cirucci stands at about 5’2”-5’3”, and although she has a kind of petite frame, is around the average weight for a woman her size; she’s a bit curvy, but takes pride in it. She has dark, somewhat wavy hair that goes just below her shoulders/below the nape of her neck, but typically wears it up; indeed, she has a peculiar, white hairpin always in her hair, round with three points coming out of it. Two purple, tear-like drops are printed on her cheeks, and her lips, pouty as they are, are usually stained with bright lipstick.
She typically holds herself with a sense of pride, at least on good days; her mouth can easily twist into a sneer, and she has the kind of giggle that worms into you and makes one…uneasy. There is a kind of primness to her, and she excels in exuding a faux-innocence--between gingerly crossing her legs, or tilting her head just right in ‘confusion,’ or heightening the pitch of her voice accordingly. But she’s not one to play dumb, and a smirk often accompanies her actions, being that there’s a kind of boldness to her. When she’s angered, she’s more than likely to purse her lips, putting on the familiar defensive posture of crossed arms and narrowed eyes; she’s not afraid to get in someone’s face in the slightest. While not flamboyant, there is an undeniable theatrical quality to her gestures and movements, and an element of calculation and precision.
Cirucci prefers skirts, whether long or short, to pants, and shows off her legs with lacy stockings or garters; her skirts tend to poof somewhat, being very round and full. Her tops, while not exactly modest, do not reveal as much skin as one might expect from her; Cirucci enjoys the tease, the peek, of seduction and presentation, and is careful in how much she lets others see. She prefers her collars to show just a bit of her neck, and if not wearing a jacket or long-sleeved top, will usually wear fingerless, long gloves to cover her arms. She’s a fan of attire that laces up, or otherwise has poofs and swells of material, and collects boots avidly to proudly show off when she can.
Personality: Cirucci is sharper than most would first assume, both in mind and retort. While seemingly very physical, there is a very heavy cerebral element in how she handles her body; she’s aware of how to use it to get others to notice or perceive her in certain ways. Similarly, she can act sweet and innocent when it’s to her advantage, but more often than not is rude in how she approaches others. She also alternates between being blunt and speaking around the point, as it were, but the latter is never a sign of insecurity; rather, it’s her way of messing with others, to get into their heads and make them uncomfortable.
She’s naturally an indignant kind of girl, big on her pride, and does not take well to being humiliated; being heavily self absorbed, Cirucci is constantly re-evaluating her own status and sense of autonomy. She tends to act independently of others, being strong-willed, but has no inherent problem in following when the situation requires it. She does, however, thoroughly enjoy weaving others around her little finger, and relishes in that kind of power. She loves to use her sharp tongue to see other people squirm; she’ll lash out especially when feeling threatened. There’s a sense of self-importance to her, and she does not like others ‘intruding’ on her turf, nor dismissing her. She can get very catty, in that respect, mocking those who annoy or otherwise offend her.
She’s the kind to follow her indulgences, and to give in to them with little regret; she has no use for the baggage of strict morality, although she can be a bit escapist in her motivation. She does something about her troubles, instead of mulling around being inactive. She has no qualms about taking risks when it’ll help her advance in some way, especially if her pride is on the line.
Abilities/Weapons: Cirucci is proficient at making clothes, although she’s no genius at it. It could be said, however, that she possesses some degree of talent for it, enough that a fair amount of people would like to wear some of her attire. She’s also charismatic in her job as a burlesque dancer.
Her weapon, however, is a result of her arrancarization. Her Zanpakuto is called Golondrina (“swallow” in Spanish), and it can be released with the command “kakkire,” or “rip off.” Golondrina, in its sealed state, takes the form of a whip, with a yo-yo attached that is used to deflect incoming attacks; the whip as a whole, however, retains status as an offensive weapon that can crush, or at least strike, its opponents.
When released, Cirucci grows wings fashioned out of ten, moon shaped blades that can be removed and thrown. She grows a tail and claws, and her arms lengthen drastically. Giant, yellow discs rest on her shoulders, and feathers grow from her hairpin-which has transformed into a kind of crown over her forehead--down her back.
In terms of how her released form functions, the blades/wings can perform both defensive and offensive purposes: they can deflect incoming attacks as well as shred the opponent or the opponent’s weapons. She can also fire the blades out into the open and summon them back at her will. These abilities increase in effectiveness the higher the velocity that the blades/wings vibrate at (whether attached or removed). It is possible to destroy these ‘wings’ with another blade that vibrates at a higher speed than hers do (the spirit particles revolve 1.1 to 1.3 million times a second around her wings’ edges). The wings themselves, when formed by the attachment of all the blades, are very large, and so they prove to be more agile when separated as blades.
This form drains her of much of her energy/spiritual pressure, and so for conservation purposes, Cirucci may tear off her wings and fight through her mask instead (her arms also shorten to their original length). In this regard, Cirucci collects energy through the tip of the mask. This lends power to her long tail, which elongates upwards behind her and over her head to aim at her opponents. The tail’s tip then shoots out a blade of spiritual particles. However, this change cannot be reversed; arrancar must reseal their powers in their sword while shifting form, or else they cannot revert back to her ‘human’ shape.
All in all, her released forms are birdlike, expressing avian qualities both in form and function.
How well can your character hack?: Cirucci can only usually only manage to hack anything at ‘easy’ difficulty, if even that; you can blame her patron for this small ability, as he often failed to notice her watching when he himself tried to hack. She peeked because she was bored, honestly; and hey, it’s a chance to learn what others are up to. She’d love to know what’s going on when she’s not looking. When it’s an imperative (to her), she’ll try to hack harder material, but it’s doubtful she’ll succeed, nor is it something she’ll attempt often.
Weaknesses: Cirucci’s fighting style becomes ineffective when multiple tall, large objects block her, and she is forced to release her weapon straight instead of allowing it to curve. Even if she were to knock such obstructions down herself, there is the risk of those damaging her or something of other importance. As mentioned previously, her blades can be shattered when confronted with enemy weapons vibrating at higher speeds. There is also the risk of wasting too much of her spiritual energy while in her normal released form.
In terms of personality, Cirucci’s anger and damaged pride tend to motivate much of her actions, and this focus often delves into unhealthy territory. In a minor sense, this contributes to a bitterness she directs towards others, where jealousy can take root in any of her relationships, and so she rarely has anyone to call a comrade by her side. She can be consciously antagonistic, carefully (but oftentimes casually) prodding at sore spots to get a rise out of someone. She can become too absorbed in such biting exchanges, although she usually is calculating enough not to be too rash in her responses.
To perhaps a larger degree, Cirucci tends to silently obsess over these past hurts, in which she can lose sight of the big picture and become overly immersed in constantly judging her own status and worth. Using others, or attempting to, is how Cirucci seeks to confirm her worth; she is hell-bent on manipulation to pull herself up, while all it truly earns her is pushing others down. She prides herself on dragging who she wishes down to her level, but neglects to salvage herself from the same wreckage.
History: Cirucci was born to a newly married couple in Abantiare, Ivona; an only child, she was born to a tailor (her father) and a factory worker (her mother). The family was lower-middle class economically, though still not terribly poor; her father in particular experienced mild success, and Cirucci learned a bit about clothes-making from him. Cirucci’s mother occasionally took the young girl out to Melior, when possible, despite the expense of the trip; while her father protested, claiming it to be ‘unnecessary,’ Cirucci’s mother was all too quick to shush him, citing the educational value of the trips.
When Cirucci was around 15, her father’s company suffered financial trouble, partly from an increasing number of bigger corporations opening factories around the area. Her father, already a nervous, easily agitated man, began to snap at his wife and daughter increasingly by the day, until he suffered a breakdown in which he declared life would be easier had he never had a child. Rather than cry, or wallow in angst, Cirucci chose to be tight-lipped around the man, distancing herself from his company whenever possible and using a very few, choice words when talking to him. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel any guilt over her family’s situation, instead choosing to view her father as a pathetic, lowly failure. What unnerved the girl more, possibly, was seeing her previously strong, assertive mother grow silent in response to her husband’s jibes; when Cirucci demanded a reason for the shift in behavior, her mother simply shrugged, claiming that, ”your father isn’t worth spending energy on.” Unsatisfied, Cirucci dropped out of school at the term’s end, and left her home behind.
Briefly contemplating staying in Ivona, Cirucci rejected her home country in the end, knowing that the larger cities would look down upon her for the stink of smoke she couldn’t scrub from her hair; she looked to Vohemar instead, free of the pretension and bullshit she so despised in Ivona. By the time she crossed the border, however, she was in desperate need of money. Settling in Berum, she quickly found a patron: a military man who commissioned (and demanded) the best clothes she could make for him*. The relationship between the two started out smoothly; however, Cirucci, finding the man’s taste to be bland and uninspiring, began to ignore his advice, instead tailoring attire closer to her image of perfection. Her patron was petty, angered by her unruliness, and just condescending enough to want to teach her a lesson. Finding her quips and defiance unbearable at last, he put on a front of friendliness and concern, recommending her to a project that a fellow military man of his was conducting.
Singing the man’s-a certain ‘Aizen Sousuke’-praises, Cirucci’s patron spoke highly of the experiments, encouraging her to take part-all while glossing over the more unpleasant details. The promise of becoming a bastard child of nature and man-and hence transcending her mediocre form--indeed appealed to her. With lungs stained with city smoke, and sure her life expectancy was already cut in half because of her childhood, Cirucci signed up. Her patron, of course, neglected to confide to her just how unhappy the first batch had been: the miserable and devastating consequences that had followed. And so she became a subject, and here her inner darkness was given shape, made palpable, in the form of a swallow, more wretched and monstrous than one would expect from such a bird. She received her Zanpakuto, which worked to seal this newfound form, alongside a ‘mask’ that consisted merely of the hairpin she now always wears in her hair.
She served under Aizen in debt following the experiment; however, after the man fine-tuned the process, and fashioned newly made arrancar-more artificial from his previous experiments--he began to neglect the older arrancar, Cirucci included. The very sight of her new ‘siblings’ erupted a wave of jealousy in her; rather than simply walk around with a chip on her shoulder, however, the girl ensured that the click of her boots on the floor was louder than ever, her hips swinging with an exaggerated sway, to overcompensate for the isolation pervading the lab. For all the girlish pouts and feminine charms she enacted-the heavy fall of the eyelids, the parted lips-the sharp cluck of her tongue still gave her away; Cirucci had a bite, had that crack in each step she took, that she fully directed towards her new, ‘superior’ siblings. She may have been twisted to suit Aizen’s purposes like origami, but Cirucci would not stand to be molded and ground to mere pulp. She still had dignity, dammit, and if she had to drag others down with her to preserve it, then so be it.
And so this cycle continued until a fire broke out in the lab; harnessing her powers, Cirucci managed to escape with little to no damage done. Humiliated, and licking her wounds, Cirucci set forth to Vohemar, eventually settling in the pleasure-seeking city of Licere. Almost 18, Cirucci took on a job as a burlesque dancer in one of the city’s upcoming music halls, gaining moderate success in her new job; she excels particularly in striptease, which is ironic given her dislike of those who try to peek under her clothes (she hides a dagger in an inside pocket for defense purposes). The difference, however, is the locus of control; the stage shifts it onto her, lends her a power over the men who come to watch, a manipulation that is not always available to her when she walks the streets back to her apartment at night (she would rather not waste spiritual energy by commanding her released form on such a ‘trivial’ matter). All in all, despite occasionally sticking her nose up at the crudeness and coarseness of her new home, she’s not living terribly off on her own.
Until she learns of the Silvana, that is, and a certain man who serves as a boatswain on board. At the name of ‘Aizen Sousuke,’ Cirucci uproots herself once more, aiming to be a passenger of the ship at his beck and call. Hearing of the next pit stop-Kropmork-she heads toward the island, with the excuse of checking out the Seamstresses’ Guild there. It’s an odd mix of vindication and indignation; she may be needed, but someone as independent as her hates having her strings pulled.
SAMPLES-
Third Person (roleplay):
Cirucci sighed as she stepped outside, shrugging her jacket over her shoulders, thick wool pooling over the lace and sequin strings of her work clothes. She’d change at home; the jacket was long enough to cover what needed covering, and the air in Licere wasn’t crisp enough to warrant more clothing.
She tilted her head as a nearby group of girls giggled. Her eyes rolled upward at the high-pitched squeals, the annoying little squeaks they made, as one of them chattered excitedly about “going to Boston in the fall,” her hands flapping about. It was only a moment until a smirk cracked onto the arrancar’s face. The miserable wenches were annoying: there was no doubt. They were young, freshly arrived to town without awareness of their place, not yet settling long enough to spoil. But it was no matter; they all had their journeys. Even Cirucci has plans to look forward to, dears.
Gaze settling onto the horizon, Cirucci leaned against the wall, long nails clicking against it. Kropmork, she mused to herself. I can only imagine how backwards that slip of an island is. Coarse as she could be, her tongue was still Ivonian; she’d stuck out like a sore thumb in Licere as it was. She was born in a city of steam and smoke, and to adjust to Vohemar-but then, she never had been one to care for roots and the ‘homeland.’ She’d roam, when necessary.
And this was necessary; finding him was necessary. Narrowing her eyes, she raised a booted foot to kick herself off the wall, thin fingers gingerly pulling the coat tighter around her. It would be an annoying journey, to get to that island, but she had grown used to traveling-
“Eh?” Digging her heel into the ground, Cirucci cringed as a stronger gust of wind blew; her skirt filled, fluttering upwards, and she growled as her hands fought to keep it down. That was another concern: pirates. Rowdy lechers, the lot of them. Perverts. Mumbling to herself, the arrancar closed her eyes; she could easily take care of them. “I have Golondrina, after all,” she spoke to herself, corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “And I know she’s been so bored lately.”
Yes, they could both have uses, now. With a grin, Cirucci resumed the walk home, her giggles flitting like a shadow behind her.
Name & Nicks: Kelly/Kinks.
LJ Username: xx_frenzy
AIM: x0GoggleGirl0x
Character
Name: Cirucci Thunderwitch
Series: Bleach
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Boat, Position: The Silvana, passenger.
Appearance: Cirucci stands at about 5’2”-5’3”, and although she has a kind of petite frame, is around the average weight for a woman her size; she’s a bit curvy, but takes pride in it. She has dark, somewhat wavy hair that goes just below her shoulders/below the nape of her neck, but typically wears it up; indeed, she has a peculiar, white hairpin always in her hair, round with three points coming out of it. Two purple, tear-like drops are printed on her cheeks, and her lips, pouty as they are, are usually stained with bright lipstick.
She typically holds herself with a sense of pride, at least on good days; her mouth can easily twist into a sneer, and she has the kind of giggle that worms into you and makes one…uneasy. There is a kind of primness to her, and she excels in exuding a faux-innocence--between gingerly crossing her legs, or tilting her head just right in ‘confusion,’ or heightening the pitch of her voice accordingly. But she’s not one to play dumb, and a smirk often accompanies her actions, being that there’s a kind of boldness to her. When she’s angered, she’s more than likely to purse her lips, putting on the familiar defensive posture of crossed arms and narrowed eyes; she’s not afraid to get in someone’s face in the slightest. While not flamboyant, there is an undeniable theatrical quality to her gestures and movements, and an element of calculation and precision.
Cirucci prefers skirts, whether long or short, to pants, and shows off her legs with lacy stockings or garters; her skirts tend to poof somewhat, being very round and full. Her tops, while not exactly modest, do not reveal as much skin as one might expect from her; Cirucci enjoys the tease, the peek, of seduction and presentation, and is careful in how much she lets others see. She prefers her collars to show just a bit of her neck, and if not wearing a jacket or long-sleeved top, will usually wear fingerless, long gloves to cover her arms. She’s a fan of attire that laces up, or otherwise has poofs and swells of material, and collects boots avidly to proudly show off when she can.
Personality: Cirucci is sharper than most would first assume, both in mind and retort. While seemingly very physical, there is a very heavy cerebral element in how she handles her body; she’s aware of how to use it to get others to notice or perceive her in certain ways. Similarly, she can act sweet and innocent when it’s to her advantage, but more often than not is rude in how she approaches others. She also alternates between being blunt and speaking around the point, as it were, but the latter is never a sign of insecurity; rather, it’s her way of messing with others, to get into their heads and make them uncomfortable.
She’s naturally an indignant kind of girl, big on her pride, and does not take well to being humiliated; being heavily self absorbed, Cirucci is constantly re-evaluating her own status and sense of autonomy. She tends to act independently of others, being strong-willed, but has no inherent problem in following when the situation requires it. She does, however, thoroughly enjoy weaving others around her little finger, and relishes in that kind of power. She loves to use her sharp tongue to see other people squirm; she’ll lash out especially when feeling threatened. There’s a sense of self-importance to her, and she does not like others ‘intruding’ on her turf, nor dismissing her. She can get very catty, in that respect, mocking those who annoy or otherwise offend her.
She’s the kind to follow her indulgences, and to give in to them with little regret; she has no use for the baggage of strict morality, although she can be a bit escapist in her motivation. She does something about her troubles, instead of mulling around being inactive. She has no qualms about taking risks when it’ll help her advance in some way, especially if her pride is on the line.
Abilities/Weapons: Cirucci is proficient at making clothes, although she’s no genius at it. It could be said, however, that she possesses some degree of talent for it, enough that a fair amount of people would like to wear some of her attire. She’s also charismatic in her job as a burlesque dancer.
Her weapon, however, is a result of her arrancarization. Her Zanpakuto is called Golondrina (“swallow” in Spanish), and it can be released with the command “kakkire,” or “rip off.” Golondrina, in its sealed state, takes the form of a whip, with a yo-yo attached that is used to deflect incoming attacks; the whip as a whole, however, retains status as an offensive weapon that can crush, or at least strike, its opponents.
When released, Cirucci grows wings fashioned out of ten, moon shaped blades that can be removed and thrown. She grows a tail and claws, and her arms lengthen drastically. Giant, yellow discs rest on her shoulders, and feathers grow from her hairpin-which has transformed into a kind of crown over her forehead--down her back.
In terms of how her released form functions, the blades/wings can perform both defensive and offensive purposes: they can deflect incoming attacks as well as shred the opponent or the opponent’s weapons. She can also fire the blades out into the open and summon them back at her will. These abilities increase in effectiveness the higher the velocity that the blades/wings vibrate at (whether attached or removed). It is possible to destroy these ‘wings’ with another blade that vibrates at a higher speed than hers do (the spirit particles revolve 1.1 to 1.3 million times a second around her wings’ edges). The wings themselves, when formed by the attachment of all the blades, are very large, and so they prove to be more agile when separated as blades.
This form drains her of much of her energy/spiritual pressure, and so for conservation purposes, Cirucci may tear off her wings and fight through her mask instead (her arms also shorten to their original length). In this regard, Cirucci collects energy through the tip of the mask. This lends power to her long tail, which elongates upwards behind her and over her head to aim at her opponents. The tail’s tip then shoots out a blade of spiritual particles. However, this change cannot be reversed; arrancar must reseal their powers in their sword while shifting form, or else they cannot revert back to her ‘human’ shape.
All in all, her released forms are birdlike, expressing avian qualities both in form and function.
How well can your character hack?: Cirucci can only usually only manage to hack anything at ‘easy’ difficulty, if even that; you can blame her patron for this small ability, as he often failed to notice her watching when he himself tried to hack. She peeked because she was bored, honestly; and hey, it’s a chance to learn what others are up to. She’d love to know what’s going on when she’s not looking. When it’s an imperative (to her), she’ll try to hack harder material, but it’s doubtful she’ll succeed, nor is it something she’ll attempt often.
Weaknesses: Cirucci’s fighting style becomes ineffective when multiple tall, large objects block her, and she is forced to release her weapon straight instead of allowing it to curve. Even if she were to knock such obstructions down herself, there is the risk of those damaging her or something of other importance. As mentioned previously, her blades can be shattered when confronted with enemy weapons vibrating at higher speeds. There is also the risk of wasting too much of her spiritual energy while in her normal released form.
In terms of personality, Cirucci’s anger and damaged pride tend to motivate much of her actions, and this focus often delves into unhealthy territory. In a minor sense, this contributes to a bitterness she directs towards others, where jealousy can take root in any of her relationships, and so she rarely has anyone to call a comrade by her side. She can be consciously antagonistic, carefully (but oftentimes casually) prodding at sore spots to get a rise out of someone. She can become too absorbed in such biting exchanges, although she usually is calculating enough not to be too rash in her responses.
To perhaps a larger degree, Cirucci tends to silently obsess over these past hurts, in which she can lose sight of the big picture and become overly immersed in constantly judging her own status and worth. Using others, or attempting to, is how Cirucci seeks to confirm her worth; she is hell-bent on manipulation to pull herself up, while all it truly earns her is pushing others down. She prides herself on dragging who she wishes down to her level, but neglects to salvage herself from the same wreckage.
History: Cirucci was born to a newly married couple in Abantiare, Ivona; an only child, she was born to a tailor (her father) and a factory worker (her mother). The family was lower-middle class economically, though still not terribly poor; her father in particular experienced mild success, and Cirucci learned a bit about clothes-making from him. Cirucci’s mother occasionally took the young girl out to Melior, when possible, despite the expense of the trip; while her father protested, claiming it to be ‘unnecessary,’ Cirucci’s mother was all too quick to shush him, citing the educational value of the trips.
When Cirucci was around 15, her father’s company suffered financial trouble, partly from an increasing number of bigger corporations opening factories around the area. Her father, already a nervous, easily agitated man, began to snap at his wife and daughter increasingly by the day, until he suffered a breakdown in which he declared life would be easier had he never had a child. Rather than cry, or wallow in angst, Cirucci chose to be tight-lipped around the man, distancing herself from his company whenever possible and using a very few, choice words when talking to him. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel any guilt over her family’s situation, instead choosing to view her father as a pathetic, lowly failure. What unnerved the girl more, possibly, was seeing her previously strong, assertive mother grow silent in response to her husband’s jibes; when Cirucci demanded a reason for the shift in behavior, her mother simply shrugged, claiming that, ”your father isn’t worth spending energy on.” Unsatisfied, Cirucci dropped out of school at the term’s end, and left her home behind.
Briefly contemplating staying in Ivona, Cirucci rejected her home country in the end, knowing that the larger cities would look down upon her for the stink of smoke she couldn’t scrub from her hair; she looked to Vohemar instead, free of the pretension and bullshit she so despised in Ivona. By the time she crossed the border, however, she was in desperate need of money. Settling in Berum, she quickly found a patron: a military man who commissioned (and demanded) the best clothes she could make for him*. The relationship between the two started out smoothly; however, Cirucci, finding the man’s taste to be bland and uninspiring, began to ignore his advice, instead tailoring attire closer to her image of perfection. Her patron was petty, angered by her unruliness, and just condescending enough to want to teach her a lesson. Finding her quips and defiance unbearable at last, he put on a front of friendliness and concern, recommending her to a project that a fellow military man of his was conducting.
Singing the man’s-a certain ‘Aizen Sousuke’-praises, Cirucci’s patron spoke highly of the experiments, encouraging her to take part-all while glossing over the more unpleasant details. The promise of becoming a bastard child of nature and man-and hence transcending her mediocre form--indeed appealed to her. With lungs stained with city smoke, and sure her life expectancy was already cut in half because of her childhood, Cirucci signed up. Her patron, of course, neglected to confide to her just how unhappy the first batch had been: the miserable and devastating consequences that had followed. And so she became a subject, and here her inner darkness was given shape, made palpable, in the form of a swallow, more wretched and monstrous than one would expect from such a bird. She received her Zanpakuto, which worked to seal this newfound form, alongside a ‘mask’ that consisted merely of the hairpin she now always wears in her hair.
She served under Aizen in debt following the experiment; however, after the man fine-tuned the process, and fashioned newly made arrancar-more artificial from his previous experiments--he began to neglect the older arrancar, Cirucci included. The very sight of her new ‘siblings’ erupted a wave of jealousy in her; rather than simply walk around with a chip on her shoulder, however, the girl ensured that the click of her boots on the floor was louder than ever, her hips swinging with an exaggerated sway, to overcompensate for the isolation pervading the lab. For all the girlish pouts and feminine charms she enacted-the heavy fall of the eyelids, the parted lips-the sharp cluck of her tongue still gave her away; Cirucci had a bite, had that crack in each step she took, that she fully directed towards her new, ‘superior’ siblings. She may have been twisted to suit Aizen’s purposes like origami, but Cirucci would not stand to be molded and ground to mere pulp. She still had dignity, dammit, and if she had to drag others down with her to preserve it, then so be it.
And so this cycle continued until a fire broke out in the lab; harnessing her powers, Cirucci managed to escape with little to no damage done. Humiliated, and licking her wounds, Cirucci set forth to Vohemar, eventually settling in the pleasure-seeking city of Licere. Almost 18, Cirucci took on a job as a burlesque dancer in one of the city’s upcoming music halls, gaining moderate success in her new job; she excels particularly in striptease, which is ironic given her dislike of those who try to peek under her clothes (she hides a dagger in an inside pocket for defense purposes). The difference, however, is the locus of control; the stage shifts it onto her, lends her a power over the men who come to watch, a manipulation that is not always available to her when she walks the streets back to her apartment at night (she would rather not waste spiritual energy by commanding her released form on such a ‘trivial’ matter). All in all, despite occasionally sticking her nose up at the crudeness and coarseness of her new home, she’s not living terribly off on her own.
Until she learns of the Silvana, that is, and a certain man who serves as a boatswain on board. At the name of ‘Aizen Sousuke,’ Cirucci uproots herself once more, aiming to be a passenger of the ship at his beck and call. Hearing of the next pit stop-Kropmork-she heads toward the island, with the excuse of checking out the Seamstresses’ Guild there. It’s an odd mix of vindication and indignation; she may be needed, but someone as independent as her hates having her strings pulled.
SAMPLES-
Third Person (roleplay):
Cirucci sighed as she stepped outside, shrugging her jacket over her shoulders, thick wool pooling over the lace and sequin strings of her work clothes. She’d change at home; the jacket was long enough to cover what needed covering, and the air in Licere wasn’t crisp enough to warrant more clothing.
She tilted her head as a nearby group of girls giggled. Her eyes rolled upward at the high-pitched squeals, the annoying little squeaks they made, as one of them chattered excitedly about “going to Boston in the fall,” her hands flapping about. It was only a moment until a smirk cracked onto the arrancar’s face. The miserable wenches were annoying: there was no doubt. They were young, freshly arrived to town without awareness of their place, not yet settling long enough to spoil. But it was no matter; they all had their journeys. Even Cirucci has plans to look forward to, dears.
Gaze settling onto the horizon, Cirucci leaned against the wall, long nails clicking against it. Kropmork, she mused to herself. I can only imagine how backwards that slip of an island is. Coarse as she could be, her tongue was still Ivonian; she’d stuck out like a sore thumb in Licere as it was. She was born in a city of steam and smoke, and to adjust to Vohemar-but then, she never had been one to care for roots and the ‘homeland.’ She’d roam, when necessary.
And this was necessary; finding him was necessary. Narrowing her eyes, she raised a booted foot to kick herself off the wall, thin fingers gingerly pulling the coat tighter around her. It would be an annoying journey, to get to that island, but she had grown used to traveling-
“Eh?” Digging her heel into the ground, Cirucci cringed as a stronger gust of wind blew; her skirt filled, fluttering upwards, and she growled as her hands fought to keep it down. That was another concern: pirates. Rowdy lechers, the lot of them. Perverts. Mumbling to herself, the arrancar closed her eyes; she could easily take care of them. “I have Golondrina, after all,” she spoke to herself, corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “And I know she’s been so bored lately.”
Yes, they could both have uses, now. With a grin, Cirucci resumed the walk home, her giggles flitting like a shadow behind her.