Vanessa, the But I Must Confess, I'm in Love with My Own Sins Female Capelian
'And this was how Ian's hoarding life with Vanessa began.'
- Ian T. Bastroe
- Ian T. Bastroe
you could have knocked me out with a feather.
I know you've heard this all before, but we're just Hell's neighbors.
why, why, why won't the world revolve around me?
in my dreams trees grow all over the streets
america's suitehearts, fall out boy
I know you've heard this all before, but we're just Hell's neighbors.
why, why, why won't the world revolve around me?
in my dreams trees grow all over the streets
america's suitehearts, fall out boy
bold italics #23cc5c
The world is full of generous, selfless people--the kind of beings that’d offer you the shirt off their own back if it meant that you’d be warm, or the last bite of their supper if your belly was rumbling and you had no way to procure food for yourself. This Capelian is not one of them. What’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is hers if you’re not careful about keeping it out of her claws. She keeps multiple caches all across the Weyrd; her bondmate’s dwelling will find itself the proud host of at least one highly treasured collection, and as she comes to trust her bondmate more (or finds herself in need of someone corporeal to move her treasures once she’s used her strength up and left herself stuck in ghost form until she’s rested a while) she’ll show them where a few of the other caches are as they’re hidden in various places throughout the Weyrd. She’s claimed at least one tunnel in the Underground Caves, an alleyway behind Needle Street, and several hollow trees in the forests--and those are the smallest and least treasured of her collections. The collections themselves seem to have no rhyme or reason to what’s in them--a pile of ticket stubs is equally as important as a bicycle with one wheel and a diamond ring set in pure platinum, and moving any part of the collection is enough to get her temper going. She’s also got a long memory, for those times that she’s ghost-locked herself, as a warning to any clever thieves who might think to just go digging through her stuff when all she can do is aggressively haunt at them and freeze their blood a little bit by wafting through them.
Whether she's collecting because she hasn’t quite left the hellish scavenger hunt from the Dollhouse or because she expects the world to come crumbling down at any moment in a doomsday scenario isn’t quite clear. She’s not entirely forthcoming with why she hoards things or what she wants them for; besides, it’s nobody’s business but hers, thank you kindly and keep your nose out of it. She’s a very private creature and initially quite reserved with most people--the less they know about her operation, the less time she has to spend moving caches or chasing people away from her treasures. Her bondmate is the only person, to begin with, who she’ll even talk to for very long, and her willingness to be around them will increase if she’s allowed (or tolerated) to tag along and select things that she wants for her very own as they go. People who give her things for free are amazing and will oftentimes be fast friends. People who touch her stuff--especially if they don’t leave something of equal or greater value in its place--will have their things removed from their dwelling or will find themselves on the end of a wicked set of claws and jaws, one hour at a time. She may be polite, for someone so skittish and paranoid, but she’s still a beardemon who has an instinctual knowledge that biting is the answer to most of life’s little questions.
Like the world’s great cat-burglar, this Capelian’s misty body is jet black in color. She tends to keep herself tightly composed and very Vargul-like, even when she’s not solidified . Two red lights serve for her eyes, creating an eerie effect that sounds like the set-up for every ‘walking alone on the moors when’ story ever conceived, which serves her just fine. Why not have people run in the opposite direction when they see you? Maybe they’ll leave their stuff. When she corporealizes this Vargul is petite, her body lending quite handily to her own version of acrobatics. She’s surprisingly spry for a fairly average-sized Vargul. She doesn’t seem to grow the patches of bright, threatening color that normally signify a Helsyn when she’s in her physical form, preferring to stay classy with her black-on-black style--but if one gets a chance to look close, they’d see that parts of her black pelt are just a shade off of other parts, giving her the poison dart frog markings she’d had in life.
The world is full of generous, selfless people--the kind of beings that’d offer you the shirt off their own back if it meant that you’d be warm, or the last bite of their supper if your belly was rumbling and you had no way to procure food for yourself. This Capelian is not one of them. What’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is hers if you’re not careful about keeping it out of her claws. She keeps multiple caches all across the Weyrd; her bondmate’s dwelling will find itself the proud host of at least one highly treasured collection, and as she comes to trust her bondmate more (or finds herself in need of someone corporeal to move her treasures once she’s used her strength up and left herself stuck in ghost form until she’s rested a while) she’ll show them where a few of the other caches are as they’re hidden in various places throughout the Weyrd. She’s claimed at least one tunnel in the Underground Caves, an alleyway behind Needle Street, and several hollow trees in the forests--and those are the smallest and least treasured of her collections. The collections themselves seem to have no rhyme or reason to what’s in them--a pile of ticket stubs is equally as important as a bicycle with one wheel and a diamond ring set in pure platinum, and moving any part of the collection is enough to get her temper going. She’s also got a long memory, for those times that she’s ghost-locked herself, as a warning to any clever thieves who might think to just go digging through her stuff when all she can do is aggressively haunt at them and freeze their blood a little bit by wafting through them.
Whether she's collecting because she hasn’t quite left the hellish scavenger hunt from the Dollhouse or because she expects the world to come crumbling down at any moment in a doomsday scenario isn’t quite clear. She’s not entirely forthcoming with why she hoards things or what she wants them for; besides, it’s nobody’s business but hers, thank you kindly and keep your nose out of it. She’s a very private creature and initially quite reserved with most people--the less they know about her operation, the less time she has to spend moving caches or chasing people away from her treasures. Her bondmate is the only person, to begin with, who she’ll even talk to for very long, and her willingness to be around them will increase if she’s allowed (or tolerated) to tag along and select things that she wants for her very own as they go. People who give her things for free are amazing and will oftentimes be fast friends. People who touch her stuff--especially if they don’t leave something of equal or greater value in its place--will have their things removed from their dwelling or will find themselves on the end of a wicked set of claws and jaws, one hour at a time. She may be polite, for someone so skittish and paranoid, but she’s still a beardemon who has an instinctual knowledge that biting is the answer to most of life’s little questions.
Like the world’s great cat-burglar, this Capelian’s misty body is jet black in color. She tends to keep herself tightly composed and very Vargul-like, even when she’s not solidified . Two red lights serve for her eyes, creating an eerie effect that sounds like the set-up for every ‘walking alone on the moors when’ story ever conceived, which serves her just fine. Why not have people run in the opposite direction when they see you? Maybe they’ll leave their stuff. When she corporealizes this Vargul is petite, her body lending quite handily to her own version of acrobatics. She’s surprisingly spry for a fairly average-sized Vargul. She doesn’t seem to grow the patches of bright, threatening color that normally signify a Helsyn when she’s in her physical form, preferring to stay classy with her black-on-black style--but if one gets a chance to look close, they’d see that parts of her black pelt are just a shade off of other parts, giving her the poison dart frog markings she’d had in life.