Rayven Brightmoor doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Quote: IF IT FEELS GOOD, TASTES GOOD, IT MUST BE MINE.
Species/Custom Member Title: Demon
Gif Alignment: center
Plotter: No Information
Tracker: No Information
Relationship Status: sINGLE
Birthplace: London, UK
Joined: 14-November 14
Last Seen: Jun 8 2016, 02:29 PM
Local Time: Apr 20 2018, 10:22 AM
76 posts (0.1 per day)
( 1.36% of total forum posts )
Nov 28 2015, 05:00 PM
Death wasn't something you got used to. Even more so when you were just a fragment of yourself in the body of the man you loved. She felt like a parasite, a ghost of who she was as the consequence of her own self-sacrifice. She'd been warned that love would be the death of her but she hadn't listened to the warning. And now she was forced to watch him suffer.
Her wings looked good on him was what she decided as she stared at him through his newly golden eyes. She didn't expect him to gain her qualities when she gave him her heart, but it wasn't very surprising she supposed. She could feel his agony, the pain of losing her as he stared at his reflection as the world burned aboveground. He didn't want these wings or these eyes, not on himself at least.
"But they're yours now," she whispered back to him; unlike the strong, pervasive will to dominate that War had been to her, she was instead a shadow easily banished in his mind if he willed it. Not that she thought he would; her heart thrummd steadily in his chest, a constant reminder of the fact that he was alive while she was not.
Apr 27 2015, 07:14 PM
New York City, USA
Not everyone who worked with the Blood Soldiers was marked, but it was a rather rare occurrence that Rayven dealt with anyone who's loyalty she didn't have carved into their flesh. Her paranoia and distrust ran deep inside her soul and while she couldn't in good faith say that she didn't think Ashenar wouldn't try to ruin her if it leaned in his favor, she did think that he would at least hesitate first. They'd known each other for a good while and while most demons older than her tried to lord their age over he, he did no such thing. She appreciated it. He was always pleasant to deal with, doing pro bono work to get her followers out of trouble when they occasionally found themselves in it. He was damn good at what he did and she knew that he'd likely call in a favor with her one day but didn't bother to dwell on it very long; the price he would ask for would be irrelevant as long as she won the war.
She sat pleasantly at the bar in a dark, low-cut vneck, high-waisted dark shorts and lacy off-white Toms that had the faintest red dusted on it. Her long locks were braided to the side in a side french braid
, which she was currently undoing just to do it again as she downed another Long Island Iced Tea, glancing at her phone and waiting for a response. This particular bar was owned by the NYC Blood Soldiers and she had taken the liberty of texting Ash an invite for to pop down and spend time with her while she was in the Big Apple.
Mar 16 2015, 03:57 PM
It started off subtly, a fog rolling through major cities one by one. It didn't last long, maybe a few hours before the sun dried it out but it slowly swept across everything. It clung to skin, passing from one person to the next, invisible and untraceable. A silent plague that swept across the world, reaching nearly every corner of the world in just weeks with only the best and brightest realizing the evil intent it carried and shading their flock from it's taint. And then the symptoms started mutating, even in non-human species. Headaches at first and then weakness, faintness. The Blood Soldiers had all but gone unheard of in the few weeks after it started until whispers were unleashed, warning that something was coming. Something big. No one really had a clue.
It was a Tuesday morning when every television in the world redirected to a single channel, a smiling Rayven peering back at the camera. Few had realized that the United Nations had been steadily growing possessed and the coup had been swift and unavoidable. She stood in the UN's General Assembly room, the dozens upon dozens of representatives sitting behind her pleasantly with two men behind her and neither of them appearing human. "It is my pleasure to inform you that this is the beginning of a new world order," the demon spoke, gesturing behind her to the representatives. "And this is only the start. Your Presidents, your Prime Ministers, your kings and queens and dictators, almost all of them are mine and mine alone. You can accept this or you can fight me and lose. I will not hide what I am for the benefit of humans who destroy the world made on that backs of my kind."
The TV cut out and regular programming resumed, leaving the world in questions as she turned to face her comrades with a giant smirk on her face. "And so it begins."
Dec 15 2014, 10:51 AM
It was a good thing she opted to wear black.
Blood drenched the teenager, coating through her dark tanktop and the front of her jeans and completely ruining the high-top converse she'd opted for tonight. Rustling through her pockets for a light, she finally produced the cheap, bright orange box of matches and opened it. Pulling one out, she stuck it once, twice before it sparked to life. With a bottle of lighter fluid hanging loosely from the fingers of her other hand, yellow eyes glanced at the mangled corpse at her feet that was doused in flammable liquid.
An enemy. She knew too much and that was a dangerous thing in these times. She had to not only die, but disappear completely. Her fingers dropped the match and she took a half step back, the only sign of how the fire unnerved her, as the body roared under flames.
Stuffing one hand into her pocket and occasionally squeezing more lighter fluid on the body as needed, she patiently waited as the body became scorched and the greedy fire ate away the body. She'd burn this woman until there was nothing left and all the secrets she knew were burned away just as thoroughly.
No one came into this part of town. It was a known slum and a fire wasn't a reason to inspect something. And those who lived here knew to turn a blind eye lest they start to go missing.
Nov 17 2014, 06:11 PM
Sweet tobacco was maybe just the slightest guilty pleasure of her's; it tasted nice and she couldn't deny the appeal of blowing smoke out of her nose and feeling like a dragon. It was one of the quiet, demure pleasures in life and she was determined to enjoy it to the best of her abilities. Lounging outside just past dusk in one of the slummier neighborhoods ensured she wouldn't be bothered, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her other hand as she brought the the cigarette back up to her lips and inhaled, the cherry burning bright for a moment before fading again.
Dark eyes glanced around lazily at her surroundings; she'd already hunted her fill for the day, a dark reddish brown stain on her neck just peeking out from her dark v-neck shirt; dark jeans also hid the worst of the dried blood she'd neglected to wash off as of yet and she was certain she could feel some in her long, mussed hair. It was of no consequence though; for the first time in quite a while, she was satisfied. Momentarily, at least; Rayven was never really completely satisfied with anything. There was always room for improvement, a chance to do better than previously. She often wondered if she'd be satisfied when he finally conquered the world but the answer was glaringly obvious to her, so she shrugged it off with a smirk.
She pushed herself off from her lounging position from the brick wall she'd adopted as her own, dark eyes amused and a coy smile on her lips as she carelessly flicked her ashes to the ground before pulling it back to her mouth for a draw. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."