shark
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///BASICINFO
๐ฆ Name ๐ฆ
(Babylon)
โ
๐ฆ Sun Sign ๐ฆ
(Scorpio)
โ
๐ฆ Religion ๐ฆ
(Herself)
โ
๐ฆ Height ๐ฆ
(5'5)
โ
๐ฆ Likes ๐ฆ
(Fall, animals,
swimming, outdoors,
tea, seafood,
horror movies)๐ฆ Gender ๐ฆ
(Female)
โ
๐ฆ Ethnicity ๐ฆ
(Caucasian)
โ
๐ฆ Occupation ๐ฆ
(Thief)
โ
๐ฆ Hair ๐ฆ
(Black)
โ
๐ฆ Dislikes ๐ฆ
(People who don't like animals,
litter in the river,
heavy metal,
coffee)๐ฆ Age ๐ฆ
(Appears early twenties^)
โ
๐ฆ Orientation ๐ฆ
(Lesbian)
โ
๐ฆ Residence ๐ฆ
(River Bay, Oregon)
โ
๐ฆ Eyes ๐ฆ
(Almost black)
โ
๐ฆ Habits ๐ฆ
(Pouting her lips,
picking scabs,
glaring)
///INDEPTH
โพ A nymph, although Baby doesn't know what she is, only that she is different from the humans she resembles
โพ She couch surfs or rents rooms with money taken from victims
โพ Baby owns a few basic belongings which she keeps on land, well-hidden from rifling fingers
โพ Although she uses glamour to make herself appear human, she adores makeupโas long as it's vegan
โพ Baby's fae blood compels her to collect things of beauty, often valuable, sometimes alive; the nymph is protective of her collection and covetous for expansion, even if it means collecting things that aren't hers to take
โพ Her hands, feet and legs are scarred from hunting on the riverbed as well as slipping on rocks while exploring the caves near River Bay
โพ Witchcraft is quite literally seeped into River Bay's history, so rumours that Baby has a bit of that magic in her blood are passed around by sceptics and believers alike
โพ She is uniquely bloodthirsty for her ilkโperhaps it's something in the waterโher palate exceeds what creatures the river has to offer and it's not unheard of for people swimming or fishing in it to go missing occasionally
///BACKGROUNDINFO
Childhood is remembered in an initial on the bark of trees, big, weighty stones dropped into a clayey ditch and the branches stuck triumphantly in the ground on the other side. Things that don't wash away. Strong, not weakโlike a memory. A memory can't cut you open, but the forest can.
Nature; indomitable, maybe, or made to be refined against man's whim. A parable older than any religion parallel to the conquest of females in a society built on taking: the very antithesis to life. They say that the feminine personification of the roiling, thundering, mossy, jagged, roaring, hungry star known as Earth is a myth. Maybe.
It's comforting to think that vastness of night or the blackness of the belly of a lake can be tamed, anyway.
Maybe a few mouths had spoken of her ilk, when it was more than just bass in the deep. Willow bark lips had told stories in voices just loud enough to be heard over the fretting of a campfire, perhaps. As the land shrunk to houses and the pecked-clean bones of herd animals, so too did the legends snuff out...
But that doesn't mean they weren't true.
