Seven - OOC

Name: Rachel Leanne Whitmire
Nickname: Ray
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Power: The Hands of the Magdalene - Emits a blinding light from the palms of her hands, purifying those of demonic natures. The downside to this ability is that she is unable to touch other human beings without burning them and thus has to wear gloves throughout the year to keep from doing so. She is able to draw up this power at will, however even whenever it is not in use her hands remain at a degree that is harmful to the touch. There is no discoloration to her skin, and she is perfectly able to touch everyday objects as her power is only subjective to living entities for some reason.

Background: She could remember everything so vividly, from the the night that her life changed forever. Rachel had been 18-years-old, young and beautiful. She reveled in the way that men looked at her and women envied her. They either wanted to be with her or to be her and this only made her ego even more vain. She was selfish and so conceded, she slept around and partied way too much but after that night everything changed. Everything about her changed.

Rachel had been driving home late from a party and she'd hit a patch of ice and slid off the road getting her car lodged in a ditch. She was miles away from town and too far away to receive proper cellular service so she was stranded unless someone drove by. She'd thought she was lucky whenever she'd seen their headlights. It was a group of 3 boys she knew and had seen quite often at local parties, they were drunk and she was tipsy so she didn't realize what was going on until it was too late. They had been pretending to try and remove her car from the ditch, two of them getting out while the one remained behind the wheel. Rachel had thought that they were trying to help, but the second that the one had snaked his hand around her waist and pulled her towards him while the other one leered at her hazily, she knew exactly what they wanted.

There was no one to hear her scream as they pinned her to the ground, by this time the third one having joined the other two. Three to one left the odds standing as not exactly fair, especially whenever the three that opposed her were male and definitely stronger than her. She'd kicked and screamed till her throat was raw, her nails were capped in mud, and her face was bruised from their abuse, but still it was no use. Before she knew it her blouse was ripped, her bra was lifted, and her pants were somewhere within the bushes that lined the road...then she felt it. It felt like she was burning from the inside out, and the voice that was suddenly ripping from her sounded painfully inhuman. It had even made the boys pause in their actions and look at one another cautiously. They knew that something about her wasn't right, they could feel the tension vibrating within the air and pressing down on them like giant hands choking them. And then she grew quiet and as the feeling abated she knew what she had to do.

The police couldn't explain it, not even Rachel could explain it and she had been the one who'd done it but instead of her it had been the 3 who had tried to rape her who'd ended up in the hospital that night - each one of them covered in burns of the worst degree. From that night on Rachel had to conceal her hands with gloves for fear of otherwise hurting anyone else. It was like someone had flipped on a switch inside of her, and now the light that dispersed from the palms of her hands when uncovered wouldn't shut off. Rachel moved away not even 4 months after that and changed her name for the sake of her family. It was better if they thought she was dead, otherwise how was she to explain that night? It was bad enough that she had to deal with everyone always asking her why she wore gloves even in the dead of summer, she just didn't think she'd be able to handle having to see her family suffer from excess worrying over her.

In the end she moved off to the big city of Los Angeles where she doubted anyone would ever be able to find her and has since then been living her life day to day making money where she could to survive. Now, four years later and she's doing relatively better however she still gets questioned as to why she wears gloves. Her excuse? She's a germaphobe. Nobody ever seems to questions that for some reason.
Personality: No longer the vain little princess that she once was, Rachel is a very withdrawn girl who hates all things male. Well not all things, but when you were nearly raped as a teen and have since then been cursed with the inability to touch someone for fear of burning them you tend to try and stay as far away from them as possible. Although she is no longer the same exactly person that she once was, she does still harbor a few lingering traits from before she came into her power. Just because she may have changed doesn't mean her looks did. She is still quite a gorgeous girl and she loves flaunting this every now and then, only now she knows that if someone tries to mess with her that she is well able to take care of herself.
Other Notes: As the seven are immune to one another's abilities, she is perfectly able to touch the other's without harming them so don't be surprised if you find her frequently touching your character. After all, she hasn't been able to touch another being skin to skin in 4 years; wouldn't you be relieved if you found out differently?

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Name: Saskia Ella Vucetic
Nickname: Sass
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Power: Blood of the Virgin – predominantly uses her blood as a whip to purify the taint of those who have evil in them.

Background: At the age of 5, Saskia was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, where there is a malignant proliferation of stem cells within the bone marrow. The prognosis for this strain of leukaemia at her age was good, and after undergoing chemotherapy and a bone marrow transfusion, she was given a clean bill of health and announced as cancer free.

The following school years passed by without much happening, until her final year. A bus filled with thirty of her fellow students, including her, was returning from a football game held at a rival school, when the bus driver swerved to miss a deer that had frozen in front of the head lights. Before anything could be done, the bus skewed off the road and down the side of the hill it was climbing, sending the students lurching forwards and screaming with terror. After sliding sideways for a few seconds, the wheels caught, flipping the bus over and rolling it down the side of the embankment.

When Saskia came to, her hands and face was cut from flying glass and a lump was forming on the side of her head behind her ear. Moans from the other students alerted her to the fact that the bus had come to a rest upside down in a valley, arms and legs sprawled in unnatural positions. Her first aid training course that she had done in school kicked in, immediately checking the health of those around her and getting them to move from the bus if they could. One by one, students stumbled and crawled from the wreckage, blue and red and yellow lights now starting to flash around the interior as emergency services began to show up.

Her hands found the one she was looking for, her boyfriend, Jason, who was one of the running backs for the team. The flickering lights illuminated his face, pale and bloodied from the crash, and also the metal rod impaling him through his chest. He was not quite dead, and his eyes flickered as he heard her sobs, landing on her. His breathing was shallow and laboured, blood bubbled through his lips. Unable to help herself, she pulled the rod from his chest, laying her hands over it praying for a miracle to happen.

It did.

Saskia watched in disbelief as the hole in Jason’s chest closed up on itself, the lacerations on his face and arms heal to perfect skin once more, as if he’d never been in the accident. When he could move, she helped him out of the twisted metal and shards of glass, into the arms of waiting paramedics where she promptly collapsed. After being rushed to hospital with blood loss, and a few days later whilst she was still recovering, Jason showed up at the hospital and broke off their relationship, citing reasons such as ‘she was a freak, and I could never date THAT!’. Heartbroken, she finished school and went to university on the other side of the country, studying and completing nursing which is what she does to this day.

Personality: Kind and gentle, she spends most of her days working at the hospital, having a friendly word and joke with patients as she makes her rounds. After Jason’s cutting remarks upon leaving her, she is jaded when it comes to men, and the reactions that they might have to her.

Other Notes: Fatigues and weakens as her blood is used. If she over exerts herself, she can require blood transfusions to replace the blood she has used.

Name: Annabelle Larkin
Nickname: Anna, Anne, Bell, pretty much anything works.
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Power: The Sword of the Archangel-- Increased strength, speed, endurance, etc. Also, she is able to summon the Sword of the Archangel Michael at will, on the rare occasion that she doesn't have it on her person.

Background: Anna was born and raised an average girl by an average family in an average town in the average state of Alabama. Overall, she was the daughter every mother dreamed of having, except for her fits.

Her first "episode" occurred when she was eight. Anna was a bit of a tomboy in her younger years, and was playing in the street with several of the neighborhood boys, messing about with toy cars. Nobody really knows exactly what caused it, but one of the boys, Michael, swapped cars with her. Next thing anyone knew, Michael was on the ground, crying, and Anna was screaming at the top of her lungs while beating him senseless.

Oddly enough, Michael forgave her, even though he became the target of many of her fits over the years. Despite racking up quite an impressive collection of scars, he remained a friend to Anna, and before long the two were inseparable. High school rolled around, and it seemed inevitable that they were headed for the "cutest couple" award of the senior yearbook.

But before even one year was out, their relationship began to falter. The freshman Spring Dance drew near, and Michael broke up with her only two days prior, opting to attend the dance with another of Anna's friends. She completely lost it-- her natural tendencies exacerbated her pounding hormones and sheer rage, resulting in a fit of truly immeasurable size.

Anna intercepted Michael as he left his home for the dance, confronting him about the breakup. She demanded to know why he was doing this, and he told her-- in excruciating detail. Pain overwhelmed common sense, and she moved to slap him. As her hand swung through the air, and as it flew, a sword of light materialized in her palm. Instinctively, she closed her hand around it, accepting it.

The blade cut Michael's head cleanly in two, and his corpse fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

Horrified at what she had done, Anna fled the scene, running home and locking herself in her room. As she went to lay on her bed and cry, she saw the sword laying upon her pillow, still covered in Michael's blood. She screamed-- a primal scream of rage and pain, confusion and frustration. And then she ran again, stealing her father's truck and driving into the night.

In the end, she fell asleep crying, spread across the back seat of what was now her truck. When dawn woke her, she found the blade clutched firmly in her hand, and she finally accepted the fact that she couldn't abandon it. Knowing that she couldn't return, she drove onwards, making it to rural Georgia before her father canceled his credit cards. From then on, she spent the better part of a year unemployed and homeless, surviving off of the generosity of any kind soul she came across. And that's where she was found seven days prior to the End.

Personality: Annabelle is a very sweet girl most of the time. Like, "I baked you cookies because it's Wednesday"-sweet. But when she's having a fit, she's completely irrational; her rage takes over, her body is on auto-pilot. And it's painfully easy to set off a fit-- almost anything can cause it. In other words, she's a time-bomb, constantly ticking towards another outburst that will inevitably leave something destroyed.

Other Notes: Hint- There's only one Michael in this bio.

Name: Jacksen Ryan Keller
Nickname: Jack
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Power: The Voice of the Messenger - This ability can confuse an enemy with words, persuade humans to obey whatever command is given to them, and produce sonic waves of sound that can vary in pitch, tone, and frequency.

Background: Jack was blind from day one. He was loved unconditionally by both his parents and their patience with him was nothing short of saintly. Their patience with one another, however, grew thinner as the years passed, and Jack's special needs were a financial burden that only added fuel to their daily arguments. Jack's parents separated when he was seven. He blamed himself. Jack chose to live with his mother and was home schooled by a private tutor. Jack never had anyone he considered a friend. Playing with other disabled children only served as a reminder that he couldn't play with normal kids, so Jack spent all of his free time listening to audio books. It didn't matter what genre of book it was, he just wanted to escape into someone else's story. So every Saturday his mother would go to the library and check out five audio books, and every week Jack would commit five more stories to memory. At the age of 14, Jack's mother, worried about her son's social isolation, enrolled him in a private school capable of teaching special needs students. Jack's sensitive hearing picked up every snide comment whispered behind his back on that first day of class. It was two months into the school year when the confrontation arose. As Jack made his way to second period his walking cane caught on the straps of a book bag just as Thomas Grint, the resident school bully, was passing by. Thomas promptly tripped over the cane and crashed face first onto the linoleum floor. As nearby students failed miserably at concealing their mirth, Thomas hurriedly picked himself up off the floor and whirled on Jack. His bag and walking stick stripped from his person, Jack was forcibly pinned against the lockers, his sneakers barely skimming the ground in search of a solid footing. Slightly dazed from having his head smacked roughly against the metal locker door, Jack tried to put up a feeble resistance. His flailing limbs only served as a provoking annoyance to Thomas who held a firm grip on Jack's shirt and jacket. It wasn't until Jack let out a resounding "Stop!" that Thomas set him down, and the following, "Let me go!" was all it took for Thomas to release his hold. By that point teachers were swarming all over the two boys, directing the the gathered crowd of students to make their way to their next class, and carting Thomas off to the principle's office. Jack was taken to the school nurse and his mother was called, but none of that concerned Jack. He was still baffled by the fact that Thomas had actually complied with his demands. Despite his mother's immediate proposal to put him back into home schooling, Jack surprised her by opting to stay at the private school. The next two years went by very fast for Jack, and the majority of that time was highly entertaining, but despite his overnight popularity, Jack never felt like he belonged.

Personality: Jack is quiet and reserved. His disability makes it difficult for him to connect with others because he hates the feeling of being pitied by "normal" people. Before he gained his ability, Jack rarely voiced his opinions, and though he now has a new found sense of confidence, he still tends to hesitate before speaking. Little by little, Jack is becoming more and more corrupt by the power of his ability. With every command he pushes his moral boundaries just a tad further. The power of his his words have also made Jack somewhat of a smart-ass, and when he does venture to speak, he tends to be sarcastic.

Other Notes: You can expect Jack to initially be a tad irritated by the fact that his ability has no affect on the other six.

Name: Brock Barker
Nickname: Rock, Rocky.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Power: The Spirit of the Lamb - Make self-aware copies of himself, for each one made, they get a fraction as powerful. So one copy would leave himself and the copy 50% as powerful. Four copies would each be 25% as powerful as whole Brock. To clone himself, he must cut something off, like a finger. The larger he cuts off, the faster it grows. He feels the pain, but it heals. Unfortunately, he must be willing to do this to clone and heal, so if he has a hand cut off by an enemy, he can't grow that back. All damage is reflected to clones, so if he loses a hand all clones will have one hand. The last clone to die takes over personality-wise, and must summon Brock at a later time.

Apperance: Brock is a fairly-large, muscular male, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes. He has a scar below his hairline right above his eye, trailing the hairline to the start of his jaw. He wears the ripped remains of a straight-jacket, and under that is a black skull-and-crossbone shirt.

PERSONALITY 1: Personality 1, AKA Victoria, looks like Brock as in she has brown hair, green eyes, and is quite tall. She's not muscular, but she's lithe. She's a bit faster than Brock, but physically weaker.

PERSONALITY 2: Luke... Oh, Luke. Luke is tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He looks thin, but he's incredibly strong. That being said, he's much slower than any other clone. He wears predominately black.

PERSONALITY 3: Jojo. Oh wow. Jojo is covered in head to foot... In purple. Solid purple. He looks exactly similar to Brock, but like I said, solid purple. He's slightly more atuned to people's thoughts and emotions. Not a reader, but he can tell if you plan to oh, say, kill him.

PERSONALITY 4: Jake. Jake's a bit thinner than Brock or the other clones, but he's voraciously hungry. He always manifests as sleeping. Other than that, he's similar to Brock.

Background: Brock always had his split personalities. He was called crazy, schizo, insane, dweeb, nerd, etc. His family took him to a psychiatrist, who referred them to take him to a Psychiatric Hospital. Brock stayed there for... Oh, twelve years (half his life). Then, well, the world kinda ended. Well, not really. But he was eating, and he thought about Victoria, one of his "friends". He cut his fingertip off accidentally. Well, it startled everyone when it started to grow. After a minute, Victoria emerged. The crowd was too shocked to stop them, and they walked out. When they were almost out, a guard got the bright idea to shoot. Well, it worked. Brock fell, dead. Victoria, screaming in rage, placed her hands on his body. His body was absorbed into her, and she ran, ran as fast as she could. The others in her head wouldn't shut up... Did she really drive Brock this crazy? She slowly followed her gut, meeting up with six other people who "felt" right...

Personality:
Brock: A bit of a loner. You would be too if you had four best friends in your head. He carries the memory of his first death with him at all times, making him a bit reckless even if he hasn't "cloned" himself. He's a bit funny, detatched from reality. Comic relief.
Victoria: Nice, kind, but manipulative. She wants to help, but isn't above tempting someone else to do so. She loves Brock above all else, and is quite mean to anyone who might take him away from her.
Luke: Omnicidal. That is all. He hates everyone and everything. He wants the world to end.
Jojo: He's obsessed with purple. Anything purple will cause him to go ADD and wander over to it. Even if it happens to be a moving car. ESPECIALLY if it happens to be a moving car.
Jake: Laaazy. Always starving, always sleepy. He doesn't really care about the world, as long as he gets his nap and twinkies.
Other Notes: He has a habit of talking to himself. And himself. And himself. And himself.

Name: Isaiah James Conway
Nickname: “Angel”
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Power: The Kiss of the Betrayer – the ability to take a life with a single kiss, the rate of death depending on where Isaiah’s lips touch (for instance, on the lips would mean instant death, while on the cheek would be a slower method as long as contact is maintained). Even the slightest touch is enough to induce nausea and a case of the shivers.

Background: Isaiah has been surrounded by death since before he was born.

It began with his mother, who died giving birth to him. Isaiah was born prematurely and by c-section due to sudden, unexpected problems in the womb. The early birth had been medically induced in an attempt to save mother and child, but in the end, Isaiah came into this world at the same time as his mother left it.

Although assured from the start that her death wasn’t his fault, young Isaiah became convinced of his hand in it after his grandmother, who had agreed to watch him while his father worked, passed away shortly after he turned four. Her death came as a shock to everyone because of how healthy she had been before coming to watch her grandson, but while everyone else inevitably chalked it up to old age, Isaiah knew there had been more to it, even if he couldn’t figure out exactly what he had done.

It took his father’s collapse during his son’s eighth birthday party for the people around him to begin to wonder if there was more to the story. Friends and family began to avoid Isaiah, and only grudgingly did his aunt and uncle take him in while his dad remained comatose. Things quickly went downhill as Isaiah kissed his father goodbye after one visit to the hospital. The heart monitor began to beep frantically. Nurses had come running, but there was nothing anyone could do. The flat line on the screen settled suspicions and Isaiah was shunned out of his own town. It quickly became apparent that none of his remaining relatives were willing to watch the ‘cursed child’, and Isaiah was dumped into a foster care system.

A family took pity on him after hearing his story – or rather, the version told to them others, as no one could actually say that he was the one killing the people around him. They took him in despite the warnings that came attached, and Isaiah succeeded in staying with them for two years before letting his guard down. After his foster mother began complaining of increasingly painful stomach aches, however, they began to recall the whispers that had come with their foster son. When it became apparent that the pain went away after she stopped tucking him in at night, it was time for the cursed child to move on.

Isaiah was shuffled from home to home for the next few years not because of similar accidents, but because of his behavior. For some, it was his refusal to open up no matter how hard the various families tried; for others, it was the bursts of panic he would have whenever members of the family tried to get too close. Isaiah had decided that the only way he could live with others was to close himself off entirely, else his curse take anyone else he came to care about. His strategy worked too well in the end.

The turning point of his life took place at age fifteen, while his foster parents were both at work and everyone else was at school. Isaiah had complained of an upset stomach and had been allowed to stay home alone, the consent being given because everyone knew he would find a way to come home even if it wasn’t. Most of the day had been uneventful, but at one point a man broke into the home, easily overpowering Isaiah when the boy took notice. The man’s intentions became clear when he forced Isaiah out of the house, successfully whisking him away in almost broad daylight.

Isaiah never learned what the man’s true name was, only that he called himself “the god of death”. The man had a fascination with the idea of controlling when other people died, and had found a way to indulge in his fantasy through Isaiah, having seen an article in the local newspaper of Isaiah’s original hometown and speculated enough to want to test out the boy’s curse for his own gain. He took to calling Isaiah his “angel” and sent him to “deliver the god of death’s message”, as he always referred to the curse. Isaiah hated every moment of it, yet had no way to stop the death count from rising until an opportunity arose after about one year, when the police had finally found enough evidence pointing towards the man’s guilt and came knocking. The man attempted to flee with Isaiah, but in a twist of events, the angel turned on his god and killed him instead before escaping on his own. His first intentional kill.

Not knowing where else to go, Isaiah returned to his foster family, emotionally scarred and more determined than ever to keep from killing anyone else. But fate has a weird way of working out…

Personality: It has become next to impossible to get close to Isaiah, because the closer he feels to a person the harder he tries to push them away, not wanting to hurt anyone he cares about. He feels the most comfortable around strangers because they don’t expect anything from him.

Other Notes: Due to years of not being entirely certain of the origin of his curse’s effects, Isaiah has become paranoid and refuses to share anything his lips have touched with other people. This pertains primarily to food and drink, but often extends farther as his paranoia level increases. He also has a habit of chewing on things when he’s distracted. Especially things like pens.