Lieu: Appartement Regan Macguire; Aurora, Colorado
Interactions: Booze et mention d'Aphrodite
Une seule perle en diamant passe sur le côté de la bouteille de squat, glissant sur la table de nuit blanche chère. La seule goutte appelle son nom, en échoant à l'intérieur de son sourcil en croûte de marteau alors qu'elle s'enlise sous des feuilles de coton argenté, ses yeux cristallins restant cachés du monde. La chair d'ivoire jette un coup d'œil sous les voiles d'argent, se tissant avec le tissu comme un bas murmure réverbère dans l'appartement enroulé en blanc. Sa main, aveugle et dorée, balaye à travers la table de nuit jusqu'à ce qu'un doigt fin brosse contre le verre humide et puis tout l'appendice étrangle le cou de la bouteille, le faisant glisser sur les lèvres gourmandes. La douce brûlure d'alcool s'enfonce dans la gorge, engourdissant la constriction dans son cœur.
Regan se pousse avec des muscles légèrement tonifiés, son gâchis blond de boucles frottant contre la tête de tête de son roi de Californie. La bouteille tremble dans ses mains endormies avant qu'elle n'abandonne à la merci du sol, se brisant en morceaux noirs et secs. Absent d'esprit, Regan porte sa main sur le coton égyptien à côté d'elle, lissant sur les draps et le lit plat. Drunkenly, elle sourit.
Elle sourit, une queer quirk de ses lèvres tordues, son esprit se sent agréablement trouble lorsqu'elle tente de penser à sa colocataire hier soir. Presque immédiatement, son sourire est remplacé par une fronce, des lignes minces qui crèvent le front dans l'inquiétude. Il ne m'a pas volé, n'est-ce pas?
Regan hums, glisser du lit, veiller à passer au-dessus du gâchis de verre qu'elle a créé, et erre dans la cuisine. Une grande chemise blanche bouffe sur sa forme, bien qu'elle ne couvre pas les sous-vêtements noirs exposés grincant Regan, les hanches. Stumping, Regan se rend au frigo et l'ouvre pour le regarder dans les profondeurs de la bête vide, gémissant dans le désespoir quand on ne trouve rien de comestible. Soupirant de déception, Regan traverse la pièce, se branlant autour des draps jusqu'à ce qu'un smartphone mince mais expansif tombe des plis, en flippant sur les planchers de bois. Près de tomber sur elle-même, Regan gifle sa main à travers la nouvelle technologie de l'âge et la vole du sol.
"Pizza...Chinois...Mmm, Taco Bell sonne incroyable." Regan ferme les yeux dans la pensée, se penchant contre son lit jusqu'à ce qu'une réalisation surprenante la frappe, "Mais ils ne livrent pas. C'est pas vrai.
Sachant que sa nourriture choisie n'était pas à portée de main, et la conduite était hors de question en ce moment (non pas qu'elle se souciait du bien-être humain, elle ne voulait tout simplement pas se faire arrêter), Regan a commencé à se frotter par son Candy Cabinet(MC). Les bouteilles de whisky se coulaient ensemble avec les quelques bières rares et un grand vin dans le petit mini-réfrigérateur, caché discrètement dans sa cuisine (sous l'évier). Son téléphone était encore embrayé dans sa main, lisse et chaud des draps de lit. Regan s'arrête dans sa recherche, ne pouvant pas trouver son préféré, et regarde son téléphone dans l'espoir qu'une solution à son problème faim et soif apparaîtra. Peut-être les dieux (ha) ont-ils entendu son appel, car en cet instant, sa cellule a commencé à sonner – depuis quand était sa sonnerie Justin Bieber -Baby - et un nom familier a clignoté à travers l'écran. Regan a cliqué sur le bouton de réponse et a tenu le téléphone à son oreille, des pensées de sa sorte d'amie pour Taco Bell.
Comment ça, partenaire?La blonde rayonne dans le téléphone.
L'autre voix est apparue plus sombre et sérieuse et Regan a immédiatement gagné dans l'ennui. Vous avez manqué votre rendez-vous aujourd'hui.
Son chiffre de pêche a tracé un aimant sur son frigo, poussant autour du grand aimant du Texas. Les yeux bleus le regardaient, le tournaient en rond et le rammaient contre la Floride. Le ton irrité de Jenkins a fait sourire Regan plutôt que de sourire. Il va falloir que tu sois plus précis, Jenkins, j'ai beaucoup de rendez-vous aujourd'hui. Refusez les blagues de prostitution, s'il vous plaît.
Malgré sa gaieté, Jenkins, coworker de Regan, refusa de se taire. C'est sérieux, Regan – le Général n'est pas content de vous.
Regan a froncé, rinçant son nez, il va s'en remettre.
Je sais que l'Afghan est dur, Regan, mais tu dois y aller si tu veux aller mieux.
Je n'ai pas besoin d'un psy, Johnny.
Ce comportement est inapproprié. Tu pourrais te faire virer de l'armée...
Et alors? – Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?
Qui paiera pour vous –
Je ne veux pas en parler –
Vous avez frappé quelqu'un.
Arrête.
Et si tu tuais quelqu'un la prochaine fois?
Des pouces ressemblant à des saucisses ont été pressés dans des orbes brunes, pressés et pressés, jusqu'à ce que des flux de sang cuivré épais se déversent du crâne frontal caverneux, en masquant ses poignets recouverts de saleté.
« Jésus Christ, Jean! » Regan s'est claqué le front contre le mur, ignorant la douleur immédiate qui a frappé. Elle s'est encore claquée la tête contre elle, demandant aux pensées de quitter son esprit – pensées troublantes dont elle avait essayé de se débarrasser pendant des années, des siècles. Une seule chose a fait le tour. Regan bougea aveuglément jusqu'à ce qu'elle sente le bouton témoin Candy Cabinet(TM) avec une collection de bouchons en liège suspendus sur plusieurs cordes. Enfin, ouvrant les yeux, elle a choisi la plus grande bouteille qu'elle ait pu trouver et l'a piquée avec ses dents, la bouteille branlante et le vin sloshing du haut légèrement.
Regan a appuyé sur le bouton rouge sur l'écran, jetant le téléphone quelque part au loin et lui a giflé la bouteille dans la bouche, chuggant le vin.
Elle ne s'arrêta pas jusqu'à ce qu'elle sente un bourdonnement écrasant s'emparer de son esprit, engourdissant ses oreilles, sa bouche, sa langue, ses yeux, son cœur et son intestin. Puis elle a jeté la bouteille dans l'évier, en trébuchant son chemin vers la salle de bain afin de se mettre dans la douche et de s'ébranler pour qu'elle puisse se saouler une fois de plus.
Sa main sloppily caressait le bouton de porte, essayant de le tourner mais incapable de se concentrer autant pour le faire. Enfin, la porte s'ouvrit après ses machinations ivres, et elle trébucha vers l'intérieur, les yeux se fermant quand la blancheur aveugle pénétra dans ses yeux. À plusieurs reprises, Regan a réussi à ouvrir les yeux assez grands pour la splendeur dégoûtante d'Asgard. Confrontés à une confusion tardive, les Morrígans se précipitèrent dans la salle et dans la congrégation des divinités de trou du cul. Elle se laquait, son esprit n'arrivait toujours pas à suivre, mais souriait pour prétendre qu'elle comprenait de toute façon, et elle s'écroulait dans un siège – à côté d'Aphrodite, peut-être (sa vue a été compromise par l'alcool). Le Morrígan n'a pas compris beaucoup de ce qui se passait, mais la vue d'Odin a réussi à mettre en évidence un danger rôdant qui a fait refroidir la déesse de la guerre ivresse.
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|Name|
The Morrígan
|Aliases|
Regan Macguire
Phantom Queen
Great Queen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Bisexual - prefers women
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon|
Celtic
|Occupation|
Military. She works in the Air Force as a Colonel.
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|Godly Appearance|
Somehow, through time, the Morrígan’s appearance has been convoluted in legends as that of an old hag. Conversely, when the Morrígan was in the prime of her worship, she was noted for her beauty and luminescence. Her curly locks were as black as the darkest time of night with stark pink-white belladonna intertwined with strands. The ebony tresses swing around her breasts, seemingly silky and thick. She possesses no bangs and has a middle part, her hair falls like curtains on either side of her central face. Around her main head is a silver circlet with the chains embedded with tiny rubies that shimmer in the light, in the middle of her forehead is an oval, smooth blood diamond the size of a thumb with curling silver metal stemming away from the ruby. The silver designs are attached to a second chain that hangs down to the start of the bridge of her nose, decorated heavily with small rubies and diamonds. On both sides of the blood diamond are ruby-encrusted silver crows that face away, and are attached to the chain that swoops around her head and meets in the back. To add to her ethereal beauty, the Morrígan has pale skin that seems to shimmer in the moonlight and it stretches over a narrow, oval face with a sharp jaw and flat chin. Her nose is straight and long and her lips are downturned with rich ridges and a pointed cupid’s bow. Her round eyes are black and dull and seem to radiate an apathy that put off others.
However, the weirdest part of her appearance is undoubtedly the two extra heads that are placed to form a triangular form between the three. The head on the left has black feathers of a crow donning her cheeks and forehead as well as completely black eyes and black tinted lips. The head on the right was akin to a dog with large brown eyes and a black tinted nose and lips, as well as elongated canine teeth and a harsh, prominent brow. No jewelry is placed on these two heads and they do not talk, but are noted to see everything.
The Morrígan wears a beautiful black sheath dress that fits closely to the curves of her body, but has a straight skirt with a lack of a waist. The dress is ankle length and a weird, comfortable-appearing fabric, and has a low back that shows the beginning outward curve of her spine. However, the most important part of her dress is the schiffli lace overlay, with embroidered, floppy flowers; the overlay has a high-collar that ends at the top of her neck. It is floor length, with a court train that extends far behind her, and the schiffli lace covers her exposed back as well. Over her dress, the Morrígan wears a black feather shawl that ends at the tops of her shoulders. To secure the mantle, a silver chair clasps each end together over her chest. She carries a spear in her hand usually as well as a small ax.

|Earthly Appearance|
As a 5’6” human, the Morrígan had her hair parted to the right and the left side to her ear was shaved (not a complete full shave, though), with only a little bit of stubble left. However, she tends to hide it sometimes by combing her hair to that side. Instead of the silken and sleekness of her godly tresses, the Morrígan’s hair is seen as unkempt with a slight amount of grease and tangles. Long side-swept bangs have been added, curving around her temple and rejoining her hair and what was once ebony is now a blonde color. She has a diamond-shaped head with a strong jaw and a slightly-pointed chin. Her eyes are small and a light blue color and a dabble of brown by the pupil. They are almond shaped and shrewd-looking, giving her a sly appearance like a fox or a snake. Her nose is pert and pointed, but her nostrils are rather wide, making her nose look slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. The Morrígan has thin, twisted lips, with the right side higher up than the left, and her cupid’s bow is narrow and undefined. While she is still pale compared to others, she is certainly more tan than she was before with a light pink-peach coloration that makes her look awkward when wearing yellow or other light colors. Her skin has been inked with tattoos, as well: on her left arm is an electric eel twisting around until the head ends at her shoulder, snarling; on her right shoulder is a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth; on her right thigh is a crow perched on a branch and a skull clasped in its talons; a large willow tree starts at the bottom of her back and leans towards the left, following the outline of the edge of her back, before the trunk stops at the top of her back and the branches begin to expand towards the right of her body; a bed of belladonna, skulls, and rubies start at the top of her hip on her side and extend down to the outside of her left thigh. When in military uniform, the Morrígan makes sure to conceal her tattoos as per protocol with long sleeves or her uniform.
The Morrígan prefers a boho-grunge look, liking to wear jean shorts with leggings or tights with heeled boots. She likes her shirts baggy and her jackets baggier. Sometimes she will wear a beanie, but not always. However, when alone, she will often walk around in her undergarments with a baggy shirt. The Morrígan hates wearing too much clothes and as such will wear as little as she can get away with. She doesn’t like to wear too much jewelry or makeup, preferring only eye makeup and a bracelet or ring here and there. Despite her lack of jewelry, she loves hats of all sorts and has a collection of them in her closet.

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|Personality|
When she was a goddess, the Morrígan was often seen as a dark deity and someone to avoid. However, she showed prowess and loyalty on the battlefield as well as a harbinger for those she took pity on and warned them of their deaths. She was graceful and cold, like marble, but protective of her people, like a mother. The brunette had a strong maternal instinct and a hot-temper, but she was impulsive and quick to jump in front of the line of fire for even the lowliest human. Despite them not having the utmost faith in her, the Morrígan always placed her confidence in humanity. The Morrígan was a bit of a martyr as well, seeing sacrifice - especially her sacrifice - necessary for the greater good.
As a human, the Morrígan is a stark contrast to her goddess counterpart. Without the ability to protect those she cared for, the Morrígan became powerless and weak much like the humans she tried to shield. Not only that, but the carnage she experienced as a goddess carried over, but now she didn't have the psyche of a war deity to protect herself against the memories. As such, the Morrígan suffers from PTSD and can have flash backs when seeing violence; despite her being mentally unfit to serve, the Morrígan still insists in being in the military as it is all she knows. In order to cope with the violent things she had done and seen, the Morrígan became hedonistic and lost her self-control when it came to denying herself pleasure to drown out the bad. The Morrígan has especially taken to alcohol, accumulating quite the addiction, and an unhealthy obsession with nature noises when going to sleep. Her experience as being weak as a human has left her cynical and callous, no longer caring about the affairs of humans or the deaths of others - the only reason she still protects people is because she wants to cling to the last bit of normalcy from her last life. The Morrígan has adopted a nihilistic view on life, though she doesn't actively participate in the beliefs, she agrees that morals and such are just man-made lies, unnecessary to dwell on. She has come to believe that violence and inherit evilness is a part of human nature. When talking to others, she's crass and sarcastic, wielding words of acid, and thus comes off as uncharismatic and uncouth. She is also noted to be selfish and uncaring of others' problems. The Morrígan is able to turn on the manipulation when she needs to, and displays a cunning nature that allows her to lie and control through her teeth in order to meet her ends. In the face of hard times, the Morrígan is able to retain an objective point of view and stop emotions from clouding her judgement; however, she rarely even attempts to be objective or even attempt to fix problems.
The Morrígan is not without her good points. Despite her acerbic personality, she is rather playful and possesses a humor. She's self-indulgent and hates being serious, rather laughing and playing video games than try to stop the big bad guy. There is little that the Morrígan fears and she will face anything valiantly if needs be; in her life, she is loyal to those who are loyal to her and have earned her trust.
|Family|
Nemain: The Morrígan's older sister who loves the frenzy of war; they were close when they were deities, but after the Morrígan fell off the wagon, Nemain and her have been on bad terms
Macha: The Morrígan's younger sister who disappeared after the pantheon fell.
Badb Catha: The Morrígan's pet crow; Badb Catha is very intelligent and can even speak a few words herself; she is used partly as a delivery system as well; The Morrígan is very attached to Badb Catha and would probably kill someone if they harmed a feather on her

|Strengths|
Cunning
Brave
Loyal
Playful
Objective
|Weaknesses|
Callousness
Hedonism
Cynicism
Selfish
Alcoholism
|Likes|
Camping
Milk
Crows
Alcohol (Whiskey and Poitín in particular)
Apples
Shepherd's Pie
Barmbrack
Irish coffee
Colors: Silver and red
Sound of nature
Hammocks
|Dislikes
Sobriety
Darkness
Bears
Sweet food
Orange juice
Strong smells
Loud noises
Sight of blood
|History|
War was the only thing the Morrígan knew, as a goddess and a human. During her golden years, if she perceived the slightest threat on her worshipers or her people, she would rush head first into battle, forcing the enemy’s hand. This gathered her a bad reputation among her people as a warmonger and an evil deity – they had even fashioned an evil sorceress named Morgan Le Fey after her. It hurt her to know that they hated her, but the Morrígan believed it was her duty to her people to accept the burden of their hatred in order to protect them.
During these years of hers, the Morrígan had committed atrocious acts as well as witness them; but as a goddess, she was able to rationalize and store the information as simple bad memories – not dealing with it eventually led to her having lasting PTSD as a human. Even though the Morrígan understood the horrible things she did and didn’t want to do them anymore, she initially refused to give up her godly powers as she saw them her only purpose in life. However, her sister, Nemain, eventually convinced her to give it up.
Now a human and dealing with PTSD, the Morrígan turned to alcoholism and the military in order to cope with her new life. Several times she had been to rehab in the past years – and she remembers hitting someone with her car once and then driving away, but the memory is hazy – as well as therapy because of her emotional outbursts. But instead of dealing with it, the Morrígan forced herself to lock her memories in an emotionless part of her and numb her mind with more booze.
The Morrígan, now under the name Regan, lived a small, unassuming life – first in Ireland and then relocated to the United States where she ended up being a Colonel in the Air Force. She didn’t bother with romance, though she did engage in one night stands here and there, and she made a couple of friends at work, though they weren’t particularly close or anything. Mostly her life has been sleeping in her apartment in her underwear with a beer case next to her.

|Opinion on Mortals|
As a goddess, the Morrígan saw humans as something precious to protect, a purpose for the wars in which she created, a purpose for her.
As a human, her value of humans has dropped drastically. She sees them as inherently evil creatures that were born to kill and destroy. Though, she doesn't think highly of herself, either. She believes it is in human nature to take and destroy.

|Theme Song|
This is War – Thirty Seconds to Mars
"A warning to the people, the good and the evil
This is war
To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim
This is war
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
And the moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight,
To fight, to fight, to fight”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor and Utgarda-Loki
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|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
As a human, the Morrígan still retains knowledge on militant strategy and prowess in combat. However, she has since learned how to use a gun and several martial arts. But, most importantly, the Morrígan has picked up several calming hobbies: bonsai tree cutting, art collecting, calligraphy, chess, and flower arranging. She's also quite good at mixing drinks.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As a goddess of war, the Morrígan was able to instill people with fear or bravery when she saw fit, and this ability has begun to return to her.
However, abilities that she has no regained is her ability to shape shift nor her ability to see the future, control others' dreams, or act as a harbinger of death.
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"Hm. Sounds like a you problem, not a we problem."
D I S C L A I M E R: The Morrigan may or may not have been intoxicated whilst talking about her fellow deities. As such, she cannot be held liable for anything she has said



Janus → James Alfero
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Hades → Hadrian Pryde
"He's my beoir deartháir - my beer brother. My best drinking buddy - wish I had stayed near him, but America has angry drunks and I love angry drunks."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Benzaiten → Amane Mikami
"Benzaiten? That ending part sounds like satan...coincidence? I think not. But no, I do not know anybody by the name Menaiton...what? Oh, Benzaiten."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Aphrodite → Ellen Dove
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.

 

 Huitzilopochtli → Hewitt Danford
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Anubis → Andrew Jackley
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Jormungand → Jordan Natter
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Maximón → Sebastian Morales
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Persephone → Kora Black
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Bastet → Sable Amasi
*uncontrollable laughter* "She's that-that" *hysterical sniggering* "that cat-lady goddess right? Oh God, I love her. Please, please, please, please, please - what was I gonna say? - oh, please, tell me that she's" *hiccuping* "all alone living with, like, four hundred cats with weird ass names like Mrs. Mewler or Captain Pancake - what the fuck does a pancake have to do with a cat?" *more laughing*
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Nemesis → June Fallon
"Anemanemansis! I fuggin' love her! She's like Christmas, but the opposite! Great taste in booze, too! Like this one time, this one time, sh-she brought me this alcohol-y thing and we, like, drank it and -" *reminiscent inebriated chuckles* "She's like Santa! But instead of presents, she brings alcohol!"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.

 

 Máni → Emmanuel Welch
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Nike → Nicole Harrow
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Jack Mercer
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Loki → Lawrence Lafferty
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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 Quetzalcoatl → Querido Castillo
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Sleipnir → Stephen Lord
"In't he the eight-legged horse? Has he become a person now? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised - stranger things have come about from our transition. I wonder how his hair looks...Is it glossy and long? Ooh, does he look a bit like Fabio? I fucking love Fabio."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Fenrir → Wolfgang Reinhardt
"Ha, he goes by Wolfgang now, does'e? Mm, Fenrir was a fun time. Like my own personal free whore. So I guess that just makes him a helluva booty-call."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Hel → Helena Hansen
"A big pain in the ass. Never met anyone so anal about everything. Some alcohol could do her good, really."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.



Baron Samedi → Jean-François Salomon
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.

 










|Name|
Fenrir Lokison
|Alias(es)|
Wolfgang Reinhardt
Fenrisúlfr
Hróðvitnir
Vánagandr
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Bisexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
High Class Dog Trainer...or at least that's what he does publicly; he's secretly a mule, smuggling contraband across borders (mostly weapons and drugs)




|Godly Appearance|
The demon wolf stands thousands of feet tall, his massive paws able to destroy trees with a swat and a single tooth longer than a man. Fenrir possesses coarse, shaggy brown and black hair that is tangled and mussed every which way. His jaw stretches to impossible lengths, his long elongated teeth connected with thick, frothy saliva. A long, squirming prehensile tongue lolls from his mouth, slobbering with a blood lust echoing in his beedy amber eyes. Miscellaneous organsims have begun to grow on his body, moss greening his teeth at the gums and mold began growing in the corners of his eyes. A huge halberd is pressed into his mouth, the point of the sword digging into a yellow, infected wound where insects and maggots crawl. The hilt of the sword is shoved into the softness of the roof of his mouth, surrounding by a black, painful bruising. Large, thick cobwebs have formed in his ears, with hundreds and thousands of spiders crawling around in their new, permanent home. Pure white bone barely peeks out from his fur, glimpses only seen through his rippling hair and seemingly bulky muscles. Spit and blood mix together, gathering in his mouth until it spills to the floor and his claws are jagged and rotting, holes eating away at the once sharp weapons. A thin stark red ribbon is wrapped tightly around his legs, tying them together, where he is forced to lay until free. The circulation has nearly been cut off by gleipnir, his ribbon-entrapment, and if anyone were to peer at the skin clinging to bone and exposed muscle beneath his fur, they would see a blue-grey hueness that rivals the dead half of Hel.
|Earthly Appearance|
Fenrir forsaked his monstrous wolf form for a more human one in order to fit into human society. He is most known for his curly hair that ends at the nape of his neck and is usually pushed back from his forehead - it tends to appear oily, no matter how much he washes it, and the grease tends to drive him crazy. He's considered handsome by most that he comes across, especially with his apathetic piercing eyes, sharp chin features with respectable cheekbones, and the perfect set of lips which are not too thick and not too thin. When amused, he has a tendency to smirk and furrow his eyebrows, causing a crease in his forehead, but adds to his enigmatic and dangerous allure. It is not so rare for him to fully laugh, and when he does, it reveals prominent two front teeth with a miniscule gap in between and a villianous-esque shape of his grin. He's of average height, standing at six feet, with a lean yet muscled body. He does have a bit of body hair on his chest and he tends to have stubble over his chin, remnants of his wolfish coat. Another example of evidence left after his fall from the Demon Wolf, is a scar on his tongue as well as slightly cracked nails. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, featuring a wolf staring at the viewer through the tears in his bicep flesh; one half of the wolves is white, and the other is black - the two wolves represent his two sons, Skoll and Hati, for which he is extremely loyal to.
When it comes to his clothes, Fenrir tends towards the badboy, "I couldn't care less" line. He enjoys wearing hoodies and leather jackets with t-shirts, sometimes with lower necklines, or plaid shirts, with simple jeans and boots. He does, however, wear his favorite brown fingerless gloves and several silver rings on his fingers. Due to having spent most of his human life in Ireland, Fenrir has an Irish accent that he is quite proud of and believes makes his prospective lovers swoon on their feet. He hates wearing heavy cologne, but will spritz a bit on here and there when he sees fit. It is often hard to tell what Fenrir is thinking, though his face isn't passive and expresses his emotions, it often appears rapidly and is hard to analyze as one emotion or the other. 




|Personality|
Fenrir is incredibly hot-headed and has a tendency to destroy things when mad. His ire is easily evoked and he tends to hold a mean grudge. He especially holds a grudge towards the Nordic gods due to them locking him up – and biting off a guy’s hand isn’t enough retribution for him. He isn’t the type that goes seeking for revenge, but if an opportunity appears, he would take it in a heartbeat, no matter the cost. His years of loneliness have left him bitter and perpetually angry inside, though he often hides it with a laidback attitude and snarky comments. Because of his harsh treatment, Fenrir can often be apathetically cruel and ruthless – he will do anything in order to get what he wants, being rather determined, and he is exceptionally petty. From his outermost layer to his innermost core, Fenrir is a criminal – if there’s a law about it, he most likely committed it (excluding bestiality and incest; though he has tried cannibalism, but it wasn’t quite his thing) – and rather lacks any morals. Not only is he a criminal, he is a heartbreaker as well; Fenrir has problems with commitment, whether it’s his fear of being betrayed once again, or his preference to not being tied down figuratively like he was once physically, is unknown. Though he does quite like sex and happens to have one-night stands habitually and constantly. His flirtatiousness and bad boy charm makes it relatively easy for him, too. Guys and girls just can’t resist him, it seems. Despite his rather strained relationship with his father, Fenrir is family-oriented and tries his best to protect them to the best of his ability, even if it means staying away as to not involve them in his criminal activity. However, though he’s extremely loyal to them, Fenrir does value himself overall and might use them here and there if he sees no other way around it. He doesn’t believe in heroics, but he does believe in sacrifice in order to protect your children, and Fenrir would do anything for his two sons, even if it means standing idly by as they live their immortal lives as common mutts.
Fenrir is unbelievably curious and believes in trying everything once. As such, he is rather adventurous and has an exhilarating, living-on-the-edge lifestyle that often attracts others to him – though not for a very long time, as if he stays with them, they typically leave him after a couple of weeks due to the recklessness that comes along with it. When with his current special someone, Fenrir has the ability to make them feel special, like precious diamonds, and like no other person in the world. Whether it’s from his carefully chosen compliments or his abandonment of his common bed-rule, people flock to him if only to have that above-the-world feeling. Though he sleeps around a lot, he would never treat his lover wrong, and is quite the gentleman and romantic; he always treats week-longs with nice, expensive dinners and one-nights with sweet candles and rose petals.

|Family|
Hati - Fenrir's eldest son. He chased after the moon god, Mani, for most of his life; whenever he almost caught him, the Shinto moon god cut off his left hand. When it was time to give up their powers, Hati chose to remain as a wolf and Fenrir now takes care of him as his wolfdog. Because he is a regular dog rather than a god, he doesn't remember his life as a god or he doesn't possess the high order thinking that he had before.
Skoll - Skoll is Fenrir's second son. He used to chase Sol until Fenrir supposedly ate her; when it was time to give up their godly abilities, Skoll chose to remain as a canine to be with his brother and protect him now that he was missing a limb. Because he is a wolfdog now, Fenrir takes care of him at his house and pretends that he is his pet when mortal are around. Due to his lack of high order thinking, he doesn't remember his life as a dog which, in turn, has a horrible effect on Fenrir, who is distraught at seeing his sons like common mutts.
Loki - Fenrir's father. Fenrir is angry with his father and claims to hate him passionately because he never did anything to save him whenever he was tied up. However, he doesn't want to confront his father in fear of disrupting and breaking the family, and so he tends to avoid Loki and, when he does meet him, keep the interaction brief.
Sleipnir - Fenrir's older brother. Fenrir and him have a slightly tense, neutral relationship due to Sleipnir being the personal pet of Odin. Fenrir believes that it was degrading and is disgusting that Sleipnir subjected himself to such things. However, Fenrir doesn't typically voice this opinion unless he is incredibly mad at or frustrated with Sleipnir. Not only this, but his allegiance - whether it be reluctant or not - to Odin enrages Fenrir because of Odin's destruction of the family.
Hel - Fenrir's older sister. They do not typically talk as Fenrir's afraid of getting her and her family involved in his criminal activities. However, his worries typically don't stop him from coming to visit her whenever he needs something (working at a funeral home makes it convenient for her to hide bodies for him) and her loyalty to the family usually resolves in her reluctantly doing it.
Jormungand - Fenrir's older brother. They're on fine terms, visiting each other here and then - he's an underwater photographer now. Jormungand sort of knows that Fenrir is up to something, as Fenrir isn't exactly trying to hide it, but he rather his brother not know the specifics

|Strengths|
Sensuality and romanticism
Adventurous
Loyal
Charming
Family-oriented 
|Weaknesses|
Immoral
Hot-headed
Reckless
Commitment issues
Cruel 
|Likes|
Dogs
Peanut Butter
Boxing and martial arts
Traveling
Southern Sweet Tea
|Dislikes
Cats
Strong smells
Coffee
Dark Chocolate
Staying still
|History|
Fenrir was born to Loki and the giantess Angrboda. However, when he was just a boy, Odin received a prophecy that Fenrir would kill him in Ragnarok. Not wanting to die, Odin confined Fenrir into a cell in Asgard, where he was kept from the light of day. The only person willing to feed him was Tyr, who pitied the wolf, and during the time, Fenrir even began to trust Tyr. However, Fenrir was growing too fast too quickly and Odin decided that he could no longer keep him in Asgard. They brought him to the forest in which they tested out many chains in order to hold him – Tyr lied to Fenrir, telling him it was a testament of his strength, and because he was his friend, Fenrir believed him. Every chain they brought to him, Fenrir broke, until Odin called to the dwarfs and asked them to make him a chain strong enough to hold Fenrir. The dwarfs made a small ribbon out of impossible ingredients (the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of stones, the breath of a fish, the spittle of a bird) and thus would be impossible to break. Fenrir became suspicious when Tyr presented him with the small, light Gleipnir, as it has been named, and suspected that Tyr was betraying him. So, he declared that the only way that he would place Gleipnir on his wrists was if one of the gods placed his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as a sign of good faith. No one agreed, knowing that they would lose their hands, until Tyr finally volunteered his hand. He placed it between the jaws of Fenrir (who was only the size of a horse at that moment) as they bound Fenrir’s legs together, making it nearly impossible for him to stand. Fenrir tried with all his might to break Gleipnir, but he couldn’t, and when he ordered Tyr to release him and he refused, Fenrir ripped Tyr’s hand off, swallowing the hand so it could never be reattached. Tyr was rushed away and to the goddess of healing, and he never returned to see Fenrir again. Out of anger, the gods placed a sword in his mouth, forcing his jaw to stretch impossibly and his tongue to forever be cut. And then they left him to rot.
Fenrir lived centuries alone in the forest, and only received food when the gods were feeling particularly giving (and when they were they were feeling even more so charitable, they came to bring a bigger and sharper sword to place in his mouth). Lonely, Fenrir became bitter with the gods – and especially his father, who he had expected to come save him. To make matters worse, Fenrir was still growing – soon, Gleipnir began to cut off his circulation, and mold and moss began to grow on him. The open cut on his tongue became infested and infected and the roof of his mouth horribly bruised, perhaps even with some internal bleeding. He was in pain constantly, and many times he wished he could have killed himself, but there was no possible way that he could have. He felt betrayed by everybody he loved – no one was coming to save him. Why weren’t they coming to save him? - and anger possessed his being, boiling inside of him.
When he was finally able to break Gleipnir, Fenrir was in a delirious state. He killed everything he saw – carnage of animals appeared left and right – and, unfortunately, his eyes laid on Sol. He attacked her in a feverish rampage and almost even attacked his son, though he was finally able to snap out of it. When he did snap out, Sol was gone – maybe she fell. He couldn’t remember any of the events that had transpired, but when his son told him that he had killed the Sun goddess, he couldn’t find himself to particularly care. Instead, he left, going searching for Odin. However, when he arrived, he found himself out matched. Before Odin dealt the killing blow, Sleipnir stepped in and stopped Odin. Fenrir has been angry at Sleipnir for stopping Odin, wishing that Odin would have just killed him right then and there, believing that there could only be Odin or Fenrir.
When it came time to give up his powers, Fenrir was reluctant to give away his powers, but ultimately decided to do so in order to start anew. When his sons decided to remain as sons, Fenrir was heartbroken and distraught at having to see his sons as mindless beasts, but he ultimately promised them he would take care of them with the best of his abilities. Living as a mortal came naturally to him – he started out as a hunter, and even had jobs such as being a boxer and a martial artist, but throughout his life on earth, he had always been a criminal. He lived mostly in Ireland, but he hated settling in one place, and would often move to a bunch of other places; he is currently residing in Ireland again and is a dog trainer on the side of his criminal business.

|Opinion on Mortals|
Fenrir adores mortals - he finds them refreshing and honest, hardworking, good people. He loves their presence, especially over the gods, and finds living the life of a mortal as exhilarating. He believes in the capabilities of mortals and of the mortal world and supports their endeavors. However, he would never sacrifice his life for them.
|Theme Song|
Novocaine – Fall Out Boy
"This is a black, black ski mask song
So put all of your anger on
In the truly gruesome do we trust
I will always land on you like a sucker punch
Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sang at you,
You would never sing along
Cast them out cause this is our culture
These new flocks are nothing but vultures
Because they took our love and they filled it up
Filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb
Now I’m just numb
And don't mind me, I’m just a son of a gun
So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb
Now I’m just numb
I don’t feel a thing for you”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor crossdressing to get Mjolnir back




|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Now living as a mortal, Fenrir only has a residue of his heightened senses left and a little bit of tracking knowledge. Even now, though, his senses can't even rival that of a dog and his hunting might even be worst than normal human hunters. Despite this, though, he has become an amazing liar and can track down any human through technological means as well as an expert gunman and collector, with an added bartering skill. He can cook a mean meal, too.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As an oversized wolf, Fenrir had ungodly strength, able to crush bones with a simple press of his nail, and destroy mountains with a simple pounce. The only thing that could hold him down was Gleipnir, a ribbon fashioned by the dwarfs out of six nearly impossible ingredients. His senses were heightened to the point in which he could see smells and taste scents; every person that he came across, he would instantly memorize their smell forever and could find them, no matter where they went. He was an excellent tracker and hunter and loved the thrill of the hunt. His speed was hilariously fast for such an ginormous thing - though he was nowhere as fast as other gods, he could give normal, or even abnormal wolves, a run for their money. 













|Name|
Hel Lokisdottir
|Alias(es)|
Helena Hansen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Demisexual
|Relationship Status|
Married, in the process of divorcing
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Owner of Hansen's Funeral Home as well as head funeral director there




|Godly Appearance|
As the goddess of the underworld, Hel was most known for her coldness. Not a cold personality, but a cold appearance of gaunt beauty withering away. The only thing that softened her weary appearance was her attractive smile. While it wasn't the most wide, it was a subtle, graceful smile that had a way of making eyes look soulful and empathetic. Her hair was the next more notable; it was a thick nest of flouncing, glossy brown curls that fell to her waist. She usually kept it twisted into a half-updo with stray curls framing her face; long, diamond-encrusted barrettes followed the length and curve of the semi-French braided locks. Hel was tall and slim, with not much curves to boast for, but a quiet, commanding elegance that brought attention to her whenever she walked in. Her skin was a sickly white, with every dip and nook enhanced with prominent shadows, making her face appear gaunt and deprived. Her eyes were a light, sky blue, that seemed to have such a profound depth that one could swim in them. Hel's makeup was kept simple: a dark red lipstick applied aptly to every curve of her lips, enhancing the thickness; her eyes were shadowed with brown and thick, black eyelashes made her small eyes appear bigger. However, this wasn't what disgusted her patrons or fellow gods and made her a pariah to be avoided. Half of her body was composed of dying, stretching skin with thick, post-mortem wrinkles. The lid of her eye was missing and the full, glassy white orb could be seen portruding from the round eye socket. Her arm was skeletal and skinny, mere flesh clinging to bone with no muscle in between and blue veins pulsed visibly up and down her arm.
To distract from her ugly half, Hel often wore an Empire, layered dress that was floor length and accentuated her graceful, slim body. The sleeves were connected to the dress, as if to appear as a shawl, with a slit from her underarm all the way down; the sleeves fell into the length of the dress. The boat neck emphasized her height and the thinness of her neck. The most impressive aspect of her peach-tan dress was the sown-in diamonds that clustered around the top gradually lessening as they travelled downwards; pure gold lace was embroidered in streaming lines to add depth to the dress. Hel hated to wear shoes, and instead wore lacy embroidery on her feet, secured with silk ribbons.
|Earthly Appearance|
Living as a goddess, Hel was known for her ugliness which has left her very insecure. Now, as a mortal, the dead half of her body had been removed in order for her to blend more into the world. But that wasn’t enough for her – Hel has gone under much plastic surgery in order to appear as beautiful as she is now. She has gotten surgery on her eyes, to make them appear wider, as well as a nose job to look more refined. Her lips have mostly been untouched, though she has gotten a chin implant to make her face look more feminine that it was previously. She has received liposuction multiple times and has work done on her breasts – though she will never admit it – to make them appear more full (not so much big, but round). She had plans to get rid of the bags that appear under her eyes a lot, but unfortunately had to cancel in order to finish some business with Fenrir. She cut her once long hair and uses a lot of hair products in order to keep it flouncy and alive rather than flat and she gets a perm every now and then due to it not maintaining the beautiful curls it had when she was a goddess. She typically spends hundreds of dollars at the spa every Sunday while her kids are at the babysitter’s.
Hel takes careful attendance to her makeup, usually placing a lot on her skin, but has become such an expert at making it appear completely natural on her body. Every morning and night she performs a skin regiment in order to make her skin silky and perfect rather than the dead and wrinkled skin she is terrified of possessing again. She wears fake eyelashes all the time and will never be caught without being made up entirely. Her choice of style can be called as sophisticated and elegant, choosing to wear clothes that seem professional and modest, but flattering and attractive. Hel only wears clothes and makeup healthy for the skin and always takes care of her body. She habitually works out in order to keep her body toned and she is on a strict diet – she only allows herself to eat chocolate every now and then. She does not drink at all because of the damage it does to liver and because she doesn’t want to look prematurely aged. She avoids medication as much as she can, too, because she doesn’t want any bad side effects to take place physically – though she does take vitamins. Hel has a hard time sleeping which would show in bags under her eyes, if she did not hide it.





|Personality|
Living as one of the, if not the, ugliest deity in the Nordic pantheon, Hel has developed a severe insecurity of her appearance and a fear of becoming old and getting wrinkles (despite being immortal). It has gone so far that she has developed an addiction to plastic surgery and is obsessed with her physical image. However, her physical appearance is not her only obsession, as Hel gets obsessed easily – whether it be with a man or a song – and tends to focus on that one thing for years at a time. Currently, Hel is obsessed with the idea of a family, leading to her adopting an excessive amount of children (three) in the span of six months. Her maternal personality may also add to this obsession of hers because of her kind heart when it comes to the young and frail. But when it comes to wrongdoers and douchebags, Hel can be extremely ruthless and callous when dealing with their fate. Outwardly, Hel appears calm and collected and can be eloquent and clear-headed. She seems like the perfect ruler of the underworld, objective and fair to those who cross her threshold. She believes in justice, but her idea of justice is quite skewed – she believes in the idea of an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a life for a life. Though she can be hypocritical considering her and her family’s misdeeds. As such, Hel can be pretentious, believing herself above the law because of her importance as a goddess and a handler of death. She can come off as aloof and detached, even when she is very much attached to the subject at hand, and she has a strict, businesslike personality.
Hel can be quite protective of her loved ones, even bordering on possessive, and gets jealous easily. She is often paranoid of her lovers, believing them to be cheating on her because of her insecurity (though she was not wrong in her husband’s case). However, her fatal flaw is her envy of other women’s things, such as riches or love, but most especially their beauty. When she is like this, or having to deal with something carefully, Hel can be manipulative and uses her cleverness to succeed (an apt example would be her deal with Frigga in order to resurrect Baldr). Nevertheless, Hel does have a sense of humor – albeit morbid and inappropriate – and can is exceptionally responsible. Hel is remarkably observant when it comes to people’s intentions, though she can be tricked when it comes to love because of her already inset paranoia, and is faithful to whoever she is currently committed to.

|Family|
Mistletoe - Hel's loyal pet owl. He is addicted to nesquik and likes to steal sponges from the neighbors.
Loki - Hel's father. She emulates her father and idolizes him because of his loyalty to the family and his mischief towards the other gods. However, she is able to admit that her father has made mistakes in his lifetime, some irreversible.
Sleipnir - Hel's older half-brother. Despite him only being her half-brother, Hel treats him just as well as she treats her other brothers. She pitied him as the mount of Odin and makes it a point of keeping Fenrir in line if there is ever a fight. Hel hasn't talked to Sleipnir in a while, having been preoccupied with her own problems.
Jormungand - Jormungand - Hel's younger brother. While she is not particularly close to him, she is extremely protective of him. She sees him as the weakest link among the family and thinks it is her duty as his older sister to protect him. Of course, in recent years, she's been rather lacking and hasn't spent too much time with him.
Fenrir - Hel's youngest brother. Hel is closest to Fenrir, though it isn't by choice. His criminal activity worries her and she has warned him to not involve her in any of it, though every now and then he'll convince her to let him hide a body in her cemetery. They have become close because of his visits every now and then.
Kent Hansen - Hel's husband. They are currently in the process of divorcing after she discovered he was cheating on her with his secretary, Miranda (a twenty-one year old blonde who flunked out of college and had a failing modelling career). Hel has been assured that she will be receiving everything because of the evidence of his adultery and she plans to rob him of everything he has, even his visiting rights of the children, if she can.
Lacy - Lacy is Hel's biological nine year old daughter, whose father is Kent Hansen. She has an obsession with origami and owls. She is very close to her mother, but not very close to her father, and her mother affectionately calls her Birdie.
Eden - Eden is Hel's adopted four month old baby girl. Ezra is her younger twin brother. Hel started the adoption process when Eden was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Eden and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Ezra - Ezra is Hel's adopted four month old baby boy. He is the younger twin brother of Eden. Hel started the adoption process when Ezra was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Ezra and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Oakley - Oakley is Hel's adopted month old son. When Hel was afraid that she would not be able to have Eden, Hel found Oakley's mother who was a surrogate that fell through after the couple got a divorce and she was left with the baby.
|Strengths|
Cleverness
Eloquence
Maternal instinct
Observant
Clear-headed
|Weaknesses|
Paranoid
Possesive
Obsessive
Jealous/Envious
Insecure
Inappropriately morbid humor
|Likes|
Dark chocolate
Clocks (she collects them)
Coffee
Family
Plastic surgery
Art
|Dislikes
Ugliness
Musicals
Alcohol
Smokers
Wrinkles
|History|
Not much can be said about Hel’s life. As a goddess, she was incredibly ugly, dejected, and lonely. She spent most of her time in the cold Helheim with no one to keep her company except for the souls of the dead. However, she did get her kicks every now and then when a god came to beg her to bring someone or other back to live – one of her favorite times is when Frigga came to visit for Baldr and Hel had her laugh over making a nearly impossible and ridiculous deal (she even named her owl after the whole affair). She yearned to see her family often, but she really only got visits from her father, Loki, every now and then as her brothers were pretty occupied in their own exiled life. Hel gladly gave up her life as a goddess in hopes of starting anew, with a fresh, beautiful face.
She had her first plastic surgery in 2006 and has been addicted to plastic surgery ever since; but she has pretty good doctors, and so she doesn’t worry about coming out looking like one of those failed surgery-women. She settled in France where she became a lowly mortician assistant to a man named Hector Hansen. During a Christmas Party, though, she met his multi-millionaire son who made his money off of a big company, and fell in love. They married a year or two after dating and started a life together. They even had a daughter, named Lacy, and had an adoption going through. However, their marital journey was cut short when Hel walked in on his secretary on her knees in his office. Hel could stand much, but adultery was not one of them, and so she drew up divorced papers and hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy – she plans to rob him and get full custody of her new three babies and Lacy.

|Opinion on Mortals|
She's neutral to them. She owes no allegiance to her fellow gods or to the humans. She believes that, like the deities, humans have the capability to do good and to do evil and believes that wrong is wrong, no matter if you are a god or a human. (Ironically, considering the family she comes from and the secret murdered bodies in her cemetery.)
|Theme Song|
Young and Beautiful – Lana Del Rey
"I've seen the world
Done it all
Had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant
And Bel Air now
Hot summer nights, mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?”
|Favorite Myth|
Baldr and the Mistletoe




|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
The only skill that has been carried over to her everyday life is her intimate knowledge of the human anatomy. Nowadays, she makes her living putting makeup on dead people - quite well, mind you - and selling coffins to fragile-minded people. She's a rather good saleswoman, too. Though she has become an excellent fashionista as well as an art-collector and has apt knowledge in the history of art and fashion throughout the ages (especially because she lived through some of it).
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Hel will regain her ability to know how someone is going to die, though it is always subject to change depending on how they change their path in life, and she will never know when or the circumstances surrounding it.
As a death goddess, Hel always instinctively knew when someone has died and their identity. She had the ability to bring dead gods back to life, but not mortals because of their fragile bodies and psyche.