Author Topic: Sabrina [Saint Sabrina]  (Read 2058 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Harlequin

  • Founder
  • Novelist
  • *****
  • Posts: 1888
    • View Profile
Sabrina [Saint Sabrina]
« on: May 21, 2007, 04:35:33 AM »
Name: Saint Sabrina
Age [appearance]: 30
Age [actual]: 144
Date of Birth: 6/21/1875. Sun in Cancer. (Note: Sabrina does not know her birthday or exact age, but celebrates her birthday on the Summer Solstice)
Gender: Cis Female; identifies as such
Species: Demonic Halfbreed (Demon: undetermined species).
 
Appearance
Hair: Thick, fine and straight, hangs just past the small of her back. The Treacle likes her hair white-blonde, and she's given up trying to change its mind.
Eyes: Sabrina has pure white irises, with only a thin black line to indicate the transition from iris to sclera.
Frame: Sabrina stands an impressive 8', with a curvy figure, somewhat broad shoulders, wide hips, large breasts, and a small waist (helped along by a childhood that included tightlaced corsets). Her frame is well muscled, but covered in a layer of 'baby' fat; Sabrina looks–above all things–soft.

Tattoos/Distinguishing Marks:
A tattoo on her upper left thigh; a heart, drawn with thin black lines, with a small curling design coming from its center and its point. It is a Voodoo Veve, meant to honor the Loa Ezrule Dantor. Her tongue is pierced three times, and the tipmost piercing holds a Vampiric fang, in place of a silver barbell like the other two.
 
Personality: Sabrina is a mother hen with an even disposition. She has mellowed in recent years, and acquired a calm but strong confidence as her power has grown. She does everything she can for anybody who needs it, and punishes those she sees as wrongdoers (and her judgement is generally trustworthy, in this area) severely. She is friendly and affectionate toward her allies and those she helps, but shrewd and cunning when it suits her purposes.
A word to the wise: do not cross Sabrina, or those she calls friends; like an avenging Angel, she will cut you down.
 
History:

Not something she discusses, generally.

Awareness of Supernaturals: High. If she can't tell what you are by smell (which is rare), you can be damn sure she'll ask you.
 
Occupation/Job: Tattoist, catering mostly to supernaturals; she uses magic to make the ink stick to undead skin. Most of her income (which is chiefly recreation) comes from the jobs she performs as a witch-for-hire. She is extremely selective with the jobs she will perform in this capacity.

Sabrina also runs a free house called the Parlor in Purgatory, for any and everybody who needs a place to stay, free of charge, no questions asked. If you break one of her few rules, though, you're out on your ass.

 Interesting Facts / Quirks:
Sabrina is originally from London, and she had a brief career as an adult film star in the 80's. Good luck finding one of those videos, though.

Sabrina has an amorphous, sentient, ecto-organism called the Black Treacle inhabiting her body. Though Sabrina is, technically speaking, its mistress, the Treacle is living, and it is deadly. Also, the Treacle is a symbiot – take one from the other, and both of them die. Fortunately for Sabrina, however, there is no known way of separating the Treacle from its host.

Sabs also has something of a symbiotic relationship with her home, The Parlor in Purgatory, due to her extensive practice of magick within its walls. The place has become a part of her, but it has an awareness of its own. The walls whisper, scream and (at certain times of the month) bleed. She communicates with it verbally and mentally, and it is – more or less – under her control. There is enough of her in he house, however, that if the house is harmed, so is she. Partially because of this, Sabrina leaves the house and grounds with increasing rarity.
Until very recently, it would be a novelty to see her on the streets more than once every two years.
Sabrina has a lesser connection with the city at large – she is able to feel ripples of major supernatural events, but she has no immediate power over the city.

Hobby/Hobbies:
Customized tattoos for fun and profit.
Home dentistry.
 
Likes: People, dogs, rats, bones, blades, improvised weapons.
Dislikes: Rule-breakers (this only applies to HER rules, of course), those who take advantage of the weak.
 
Strength:
Her obvious physical strength, and her leadership abilities, her Magick.

Weakness/Flaw:
She is sometimes blinded by her righteous inclinations, bulldozing ahead without stopping to think about the consequences of her actions. She has powerful enemies.
 
Snippet:

"Miss Sabrina?"

The giantess looked up from her book – a huge old tome, written in a splinter dialect of sanskrit that she'd been trying to translate for three weeks now – supposedly, it was a book of summoning, but so far it seemed to be concerned mostly with various aspects of exotic plants (and – lets face it – most plants were exotic, in the desert) though she could be reading it wrong. Slow going nonetheless, so she was all too glad when she heard her name – albeit with that grotesque honorific attached to it, that everybody seemed to be using since Malcolm had been here last.

"Yes, Mathilde?" she asked, looking at the mousy young brunette who'd
spoken with bleary eyes. Mathilde was one of her tenants, as was her father.

"There's something in the ballroom," said the girl, blinking owlishly up at the demoness through coke-bottle glasses.

"What kind of something?" Sabrina smiled now, knowing the girl was joking.

"It's got tentacles."

"...Ah." The smile died. Fabulous.

Sighing heavily, Sabrina rose from her chair, leaving her books and notebooks scattered across the surface of the large, round table. The child scurried out of the way, but stayed obnoxiously close as the halfbreed crossed the room. This had once been a restaurant, but was now simply a dining room (as well as a rumpus room, and, apparently, a study) and passed through the swinging aluminum doors into the kitchen. She emerged shortly after, holding an industrial-sized frying pan in her right hand.  "Mathilde," she said, looking down – a long way down – at the young girl standing by her left knee, neck craned to look up at her hostess.

"Uh-huh?" chirped the little girl.

"Tell everybody to stay out of the Ballroom until I come out."

And with a grim set to her black-painted mouth, Saint Sabrina stalked out of the dining room, down the hall, and through the heavy double doors leading to the grand ballroom.