Why did you come to Haven?
I came here to get away. To escape drowning. To free my neck from finger-shaped bruises. To open my eyes, and see. To find me.
Some will say that I traded one collar for another, and another, and another. Some will say that I'm a marionette that is meaningless without strings. I say that I got what I came here for. Some people are claustrophobic, some are agoraphobic. Neither is the true definition of freedom.
So fuck 'Some'.
How do you deal with the lurking horrors?
The worst atrocities in history were caused by humans. Normal, unaware humans. The greatest monster is man, and I have known him. He has closed my eyes, he has shut my lips, and I have worn his bruises like a collar. I forgot how to breathe.
Pain is ephemeral. Even when it lasts, it will not last forever. If you are going to be better, be better, and walk through the gauntlet. Do not turn back. How do I deal with the horrors? I find the powerful, and beg them to hold me under. My life has been lived against the grindstone, and it's the only way I know. Persevere and grow.
Where do you fit in a supernatural world?
That sure is the question. I dance, yet I stand still. I laugh, and I grit my teeth. I want to climb, but I don't want to reach the top.
I am a fox. I am clever, I am mischief, but I am as loyal as a dog. I am prey, yes, but also a predator.
I am a coin, dancing in the light, glittering as I spin. I can only be spent by those who value me.
I am finding my place, in this world, but the biggest question still remains - what am I?
RP Hooks
Trickster:
You may find me a flamboyant, dramatic jokester with a pewter tongue and a quick wit. I'm fond of pranks, games, humor, and teasing. My interests may not consider the law or, to some extent, morality. I have more empathy than I want, but not enough to be a real boy. Invite me to your mischief, shenanigans, heists, and adventures.
The Art:
My feet were made to wander, to dip my toes in dew and to leap across rooftops. I don't need music to dance because the world has a heartbeat, and it thuds in the rhythm of magic. My toes trace ancient geometry, and my fingers tut in incantation to my ancestors. With light, they streak through the air, and with paint, they open windows to dream, thought, and feelings. If you sing in words upon a page, yell in colors on a canvas, cry in writhing footwork, or call forth miracles with the essence beyond the gates, call upon me, that we may share in kind.
Prestidigitation:
I'm not the pledge, I'm the turn. I'm not the prestige, I'm gone. If you watch me, you'll never see me missing. If you blink, I never left. Am I the left Hand or the Right, in this magic trick? Do I have meaning, or am I meaningless? Am I as boring as you thought I was, or am I a showman? I'm a fox. I'm a Bat. I'm the rabbit, and I'm the hat. If you are a Ring, or a Finger, or the warm support of a Palm, I'll welcome you with a jester's bow and an impish grin. And maybe I'll melt like Gallium. Maybe I'm the Mercury poisoning. But what I am not, I can promise you, is both hands clasped, begging for a change. I am not not the hand that brandishes a crucifix, while winding a chain around your throat. I am a beckoning, open Hand, asking you to take mine and stand, tall... or slap you down for getting in my way.
Changeling:
I smile amidst the corpses in the battlefield, and I wonder at the machinations of the chainsaw. I see the song in color without synesthetic cacophanies, and I yearn for the strange. The words pour unbidden from my lips, and they tumble and overwhelm and drown. I've always been the odd one out, the one whose mind makes a puzzle box with intricate complexities. I embrace the bizarre, and flinch away from the gentle hug. Hold me tight, or not at all. Hurt me or love me, when I dance, I dance alone, so don't make me dance with you. Out of sync, my own drumbeat, out of line, out of my mind. Aid, Don't Hate Different. AUtomatic TIS the Mantra. Society won't make a Path for me, so I'll make my own, to the stars and beyond. Alien, your humble servant, Ash.
Cuckoo:
Once upon a time, there was a man. He had a son. That son was kidnapped by aliens. The end.
Once upon a time, there was a flaming corpse. It was lifted into the hand by a thousand hand, and quenched in the ocean. From this, a weapon was forged, of bismuth and obsidian.
Once upon a time, there was a demon. He trapped a little rabbit, and sought to turn it into flame. He coaxed it forward, but in that moment, he was torn asunder, and reborn. When he woke, he howled with pain, thrashing. The rabbit did not run, and came to the arsonist to press their head upon his. In that moment, the rabbit stole the demons horns, and the demon held the rabbit in his big, heavy hands.
Once upon a time, a dove rose through the air, pure as light. A flaming arrow slid within her breast, and she fell to the ground. She was reborn as a phoenix, but blind. In her rage, she screamed and tore through her enemies, both banshee and bullet.
Once upon a time, a handful of coins gathered in a red palm. One of pure gold, one black as coal. One of copper, like electric wire, one whose edges were sharp enough to cut. One was made of glass, and another was had two heads. These coins were useless, for nothing could compare in price to their value, and so they were kept in a special coin purse, left open for other unique and sacred coins to join.
Once upon a time, there was you.
