Song to the Siren.
Name: Siren Ophelia Salmon
Gender: Lady
Age: Sixteen
Personality:A rather mesmerizing creature, as her mystical name would allude to, once having dove beneath the surface, one will stumble upon the promised treasure of Siren Ophelia Salmon. A riddling character, Siren seems to be just as unsure of what the deciphered meanings of her cryptic musings are. Speaking at times in an archaic and baffling tongue of formality, Siren is sure to enthrall, and captivate, to serve as the lure her name suggests, but after entrapping the individuals she never sought to draw in, seems to have no better idea of what to do with them than they have with themselves, as they seem happy to just bask in her company, spellbound, for hours. A crafy and coy creature of mischief, Siren seems to operate under a rather apathetic philosophy, in which if a person or Pokemon doesn't immediately command her interest, she won't afford them the slightest whiff of her attention, preferring to allot that energy to somebody she can't quite seem to shake, a person who rocks her to her core. A soft-spoken and flighty creature, the one gentle aspect that seems to haunt this otherwise rambunctious girl is her melodic voice, which further serves as a decoy, an evolutionary attributive somewhat like the light of the Angler Fish, beckoning one and all to her, and leaving them hypnotized in her company. She wouldn't necessarily coin this as a physical attraction, just a lingering spell, much like a temporary dusting of toxins, rendering those riddled by this girl immobile. In this, she is poisonous, her voice being the natural venom. An elusive lady, Siren seems oblivious to, or else has otherwise ignored what seems blatantly obvious to all else: Common courtesy, paired with her flightiness causes her to be the subject of scorn of many an old biddy, and the concept of privacy is virtually unknown to her. An inquisitve little dear, if the tables have turned and she is the one engrossed for a change, she inuitively feels it as her right, her obligation even to keep tabs on the person interfering with her whimsical routine, following them for a variety of reasons, among them being: Watchfulness (Obsessive as her zealous protectiveness might be), curiosity (to figure out the ways in which that person might tick), and as a mode of gathering information for a one-up in future conversation, as well as just having a natural binding to one who amuses her, just the same as she comes across as cold and passionless to those who just don't interest her. As aforementioned, this detachment from reality, in part due to her shady 'upbringing', has left Siren with a rather incurable physical addiction. As compulsive as it is for some people to 'shoot up', comes Siren's more natural and biological relish, her insatiable taste for the pleasures of the flesh. The sensations, the rushes, the soothing after-effect, Siren can't pretend not to love every aspect of unrestrained intercourse. For such a harmless endeavor, though, she is shocked that oftentimes her uncanny habit has left her the object of scorn and disgust many a time, despite her actions, she feels, being exclusively private, and of no one's concern but her own. And the guy's. And his girlfriend's, but still. It baddles her why this natural, compelling phenomenon is gone to such great lengths to prevent, whilst physical violence is left to run abound. While sexual waywardness isn't Siren's only asphyxiation, it is, along with competitive battling, her favorite and her main attraction. While other briefer, simpler experiences give her pleasure, it can't even begin to compare to the release that fornication provides, and so Siren, though some days she wakes up, realizes her hobby for what it is, and what type of person it makes her, and wants to die, on most days is an advocate for it and free will, of herself and those girls who enjoy it, and who, well, should just be left to it. Because of this uncommon fixation, if ever the fat chance Siren meets a guy she might like on a more romantic level, will attempt to avoid him, to try to keep from seducing him. She, at least, understands what men become to her after intercourse, and that is droll, uninteresting toys, copies of every other Tom, Dick, and Harry that ever walked the earth. What she thinks of herself? She never allows her thoughts to stray there, and sees it unlikely that she will ever be able to forge an intimate tie with anybody.
History: It wouldn't come as a shock to too many that Siren had been born in the eye of some kind of turmoil, and as even less of a surprise that she had been raised primarily at Sea. Born by incredibly humble means, the likes of which would put Jesus Christ to shame, this little girl first opened her big, lavender eyes to a modest world, the worn-out and less than glamorous confines of the hull of a ship, amid a whole flock of wide-eyed strangers, fellow passengers. The ship was a Krabby fishing boat, an adamant and sturdy, if not battered little boat, the Captain offering occaisionally his services when regular business was slow as trasportation across regions for less than fortunate families. Siren's mother was among these hopeless desperates forging new lives, and had arrived alone on the ship. Thinking that the ship couldn't carry her farther from her vindictive and traditional little village, that which had damned her from the property for consumation out of wedlock, and fearful that the Captain would reject her if he knew, leaving her stranded for years perhaps until the child had grown enough to endure long travel, Siren's mother hid it. The night of an unexpected, and merciless storm, what Sailors would later reflect fearfully back on as 'the storm of the century', perhaps because of the vicious, barbarous tossing of the waves, perhaps by fate or chance, Siren was born two weeks early. Not that her poor mother could've known any differently. Hiding her face for shame at home, she hadn't once been to see a Doctor. Neither she, or the village heads had thought the illegitimate child worthy of any such extra attention. Siren was born, bearing the puny and almost pitying frame that she would carry all throughout childhood, as well as adolescence, fragile and insignificant, but healthy. The frightened woman, understanding that the baby would've had to come eventually, but also recognizing that her chances were slim enough as it was of finding a cheap place to lodge while looking for work, knew that it would be next to impossible to arrange care for a child at that. And so, wrapping her in the dilapidated sweater she had arrived in, Siren's mother left her newborn baby girl, only several days after birth, in the hull of the ship, an offering to the sea. And perhaps because she was born of such unlikeliness, abondoned into such cruel and unforgiving circumstances, that the Sea and Arceus took pity on the forgotten child, slowing to a soothing, melodic rock, quiet for the sake of the new life, lulled almost into the whispers of a lullaby. Fortunately, it took only half a day for one of the Crew members to stumble upon the child, and when he reported sooner than expected to the Captain, this time bearing the fruits of life, the Captain's heart melted, and it was in that instant that the child had a father. A gruff and solitary man, old, and sea-weathered, set deep into his ways (you know the type), the Captain had earlier selected his passion for the sea over his passion to be a father, to create a legacy and settle into domesticity with a wife, and now, as he was older and more reflective, had wished that he had at least tried the other lifestyle. It seemed that Siren was his last chance, and so, naming the irresistably appealing child after the creature which was said to lure young men into the water, leading them to death through beauty and song, Siren embarked on what would be the happiest six years of her life. From the time before she could stand, the Captain had Siren in the water, had her toddling about the deck, an occaisional feisty wave knocking her off of her stout little feet and onto her bottom, had her playing with all sorts of catches from the Sea. The majority of these creatures were Kingler and Krabby that the Captain would later sell to the market, but occaisionally, he would draw in a Shellder, a Cloyster, or even a Horsea or a Seadra, and the girl would have a new kind of companion to play with for awhile. She learned to mend nets, to cast them, as well as what type of bait worked best for each type of Pokemon. All this changed, though, when the aging Captain suffered unexpected cardiac arrest, and since they were so far out to sea, had to wait an extraordinarily lengthy amount of time to be seen. At the first oceanside town's hospital, Siren stood at her father's side as he passed away. Six years old at the time, it seemed logical that Siren would become the ward of the state, but the Captain's successor, a young and crafty man with the ambition and charisma to slip easily into the world of corporate business, but with the attention span of a fruit fly, had had his eye on young Siren for awhile. Something about the girl's keen, shimmering eyes, her studious little heart-shaped face, the way her little Conch lips set into a pout anytime anything required her intense concentration, drove him wild. And so came an end to Siren's golden years, as she was exposed, as what was precious, and beautiful, and whole and pure was ripped forcefully from her, again and again, until the act itself became nothing to her, just an everyday event, like waking up, or getting dressed. Siren hadn't exactly stolen the heart of the new Captain, and so he showed no particular concern when the other crew members began also taking advantage of the little girl on the ship, satisying their own primal urges further roused by extended leave at Sea, and while initially feeling a hint of guilt, soon taught themselves to be immune. Siren, for the necessity of her own survival and sanity, to keep from tossing herself overboard as true sacrifice to the sea she had been born to, taught herself to love it, to yearn for it even. She wouldn't complain, wouldn't tune reality out any longer, would only embrace it, therefore creating her own deadly sin. Her true crime might've been clinging to her life at any cost, even her dignity, rather than die for it, but oh well. Siren was eventually discovered as being exploited, the ship mates hadn't been careful enough in boasting their "catches" with her, and had, while drunken, mistakenly told an off-duty Police man. Siren was plucked from the boat she had called home for all of her twelve years of existence, and placed into Foster Care, where life, aside from a better quality of food, was noticeably no different to her than life on the Krabby boat had been. She was shuffled to and from homes quite a bit, always for the same reason, either caught in the act with the other adolescents of the household, or in homes with no other children or only females or younger children, repetitive midnight escapades, impulsive enough that she left an obvious trail, always leading to the same place and the same thing.. It was finally decided, when Hope High School expressed interest in the girl, that the vexed foster care system gratefully handed her over, turning her loose on what would be her final chance, the last stop. Vira was a gift given to Siren by one of her foster care families, when it was still thought that she could find insatiable passion in a healthier hobby, say Pokemon Battling. While Siren latched gleefully onto the task of raising her new Pokemon, and bonding with him, it couldn't shake her of her compelling natural urge, though when she was again transferred, she was allowed to keep him.
Appearance: Light and nimble to the point of appearing suspiciously gaunt, one isn't given even the slightest clue that Siren is in herself any particular powerhouse. Built for agility rather than for taking or dealing out any crucial blows, any recruiter of the sheer mighty wouldn't even spare Siren a passing glance, unless maybe it were one of disgust for her incredibly puny stature. If only a thin, willowy creature in frame, Siren is at least attractive in the proportions of thestriking mirror-like qualities of her heart-shaped face. With lips constantly fixated in a pount of intense concentration, and the delicate hue of a frostnipped Rosebud, and a flaring nose seemingly ripped off of the classic statues of the old Greeks, to the alluring potence of her lavendar eyes, an innocent and virgin shade of pale purple casting her as the most desperate of victimess, serving, along with thick snow-capped lashes as the piece de resistance, the final tantalizing bit of bait to contribute to her irresistable aura, heartstopping irises set amid wide, soulful windows, delicate in seeming to deliberate between shipwrecked turmoil and heartshattering betrayal, of some old Sea tale long told and now forgotten, of which the girl is constantly seeming to struggle to remember. Her perilous crystal mane falls well below her waistline, and if examined on an intimate enough basis, individual strands of turquoise and aquamarine can be depicted.
Outfit one: Your typical Sailor-themed outfit, give or take a few jazzed up commodities. A knee-length Navy blue skort, pleated to allow sufficient leg room for the rather leggy young lass, a form-fitting white blouse adorned with a classic navy bow, behind which the blouse splits into a V-shaped neck, the inner cups of her brassiere safeguarded by a plain white tank top sporting a single navy stripe across the chest, and your typical crisp, folded bid hanging down over the shoulders. At times, a matching Sailor's cap can be seen perched at an angle across the crown of her head. A pair of navy blue calf-high socks accent the outfit, as do a plain and scuffed up pair of broken-in old leather dress shows, once destined for the rigid demands of formality, and obviously abused and disregarded. A leather messenger bag is Siren's constant companion, containing a variety of odds and ends. A miniature golden telescope, a warped map of the Sinnoh region, a battered old Sea journal, bearing the simple print of small Sailboats bobbing upon wrathful tempestuous waves, Kyogre, beast of the Sea appearing as a gargantuan silhouette in the distance, gone unnoticed by the panicking sailors, a Wingull feather quill pen, a crocheted afghan, cleverely woven of varying hues of blues, greys, and whites, to mimic the waves of the Sea, as well as her one vice, her collection of small Sea shells, the larger ones being of too great of value and too fragile to cart along, but her weakness for the Shore evident noetheless in her seemingly useless Mini shells, as well as a sealed jar of Sea Salt, which she has been known to relish like others do sticks of candy. A simple chain of rope, smelling heavily of oil, hangs around the girl's pale throat, contained on it a single spiral conch shell, cream colored, and speckled beautifully with blotches of chocolate brown. Though the myth has long since been disproved, she swears she can hear the Ocean calling to her..
Outfit two: (She alternates between the two daily) A more simple garb suits Siren on the days when more than just the bare minimum is needed to suffice, and as she set out alone to embark on what would perhaps be her final mission, she snagged a short, billowing sundress, one that would hug her bodice comfortably, and then become progressively looser as it made its way down to end at just below her hips. The design of the dress is relatively simple, a soft, Robin's egg blue, containing alternating stripes of Cerulean and Opague, beginning at the ruffled, low-cut beginning hanging mid-breast, to the laceless decor of the hem of her skirt. The dress, while containing virtually no sleeves, and instead only twisted, rope-like elastic strapes, does contain, however, three functionless opague buttons, and a misplaced sewn-on patch, obviously custom-tailored by hand. The single patch includes a large Daisy with a Cornflower yellow center, on which miniature dime-sized Pokemon bounce gleefully. A cackling Wigglytuff shaking a surly-looking Chimchar in one paw, all the while force-cuddling a dazed Eevee in its other pudgy arm, a dreamy Totodile sitting on the very edge of the center, stout little legs dangling over, a protesting Mudkip struggling to pry the Eevee out of the Wigglytuff's arm, and a Treecko sitting some distance away from the scene, meditating quietly.. Because the dress is so scant, and Siren doesn't allow sneak peeks, she wears a pair of faded yellow short short cut-offs, and a pair of matching flowered rainboots. With this outfit too, the necklace stays continuous, but a bracelet is tacked on, strung of washed out driftood pieces.
Pajamas: A simple pair of sweat short shorts, and a loose-fitting tank top suffice, the shorts a dazzling electric blue, printed with the design of multiple Wailmers, while the tank top features a large Sailboat, the same characters featured on the Daisy patch situated clumsily on the boat, sprawled out awkwardly, and screaming, gripping the railing as a friendly-looking Wailmer grips the boat in its teeth with a grin, appearing to shake it whilst simultaneously consuming it. Only the Chimchar seems void of fear, as it thrashes against the Treecko's grip to launch an attack at the playful Wailmer.
(I do my outfits seperate from appearances, to reduce bulkiness.)
Negative Trait: Lust
Power: Manipulation of the Earth (For now, very basic and uncontrolled, only flowers)
Schedule:
First Period: Core Two Mathematic
Second Period: Advanced English/ Classical Literature
Lunch
Third Period: History/Mythology
Fourth Period: Competitive Battling
Pokemon:
Species: Ralts
Nickname: Vira
Gender: Male
