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Pop Goes The Kitty
Created on 2004-08-30 07:32:56 (#4372599), last updated 2006-01-03
102 comments received, 80 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
17 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | snapping_kitty |
|---|
BioThis is a roleplay journal and as such it is nothing more than written FICTION. Please be aware that everything within it is fictional, meaning it is NOT real.
Also note that this character is above the age of consent.
Name: Marui Bunta
Age: Older than even he remembers.
Apparent Age: 21
History::
Marui Bunta was born in the ancient land of Egypt during a time that a Jackal-headed God was still worshipped and Bast was revered all over lower Egypt. Created from the love of two feline Bubasti, he spent most of his younger years living the life of a cat revered in his homeland for his connection to the Goddess herself. In later years, during his teens he experienced his first change, shifting from feline to human and later learning that his rage; depending upon it’s greatness; could bring about a far more terrible change to a mindless creature who slew without qualm.
He was the apple of his parents eye, doted upon and loved as they had chosen to name him according to their obsession with a country and culture that wasn’t their own. However, despite the love they held for him, they expected him to follow their rules (often times unreasonable and strict beyond measure), a stricture that tightened a noose about his neck the older he grew.
His kind were all but dead, dying out with the ages and the coming of the Kindred. The many wars that broke out continued to kill off those of the purest bloodlines, leaving behind a few survivors of which his family was some of the few.
On his 18th birthday, he was ordered to marry a girl who’d been handpicked by his parents and the tribe. Bunta- already chaffing against the hold his tribe’s rules held over him- waited for the darkest hours of the night, packed what few belongings he could (including a few ancient tomes holding the written secrets of his kin) and lit out for parts unknown.
Because of his innate hunger, so vast that it often goes without being sated, Bunta spent much of his travels starving for not only knowledge but for food of all kinds. It was on the banks of England that he nearly met his end at the age of twenty-one. Starved to nothing but skin and bones, he stumbled off the ship he’d stowed away on and collapsed in the dirty, dank alleys of the docks.
Lying there, knowing that each breath he took drew him closer to the end, the young shadowcat whispered a last prayer to the Goddess of his homeland. He called out for her attention, her love and guidance and it was there that the Lady of Cats first appeared to him in the guise of a white tiger. Gentle and kind The Mother nursed him, whispered secrets in his ear and advised him. Shortly after, he awoke to the knowledge that he no longer hungered and that his belly, for once, seemed to be full. It took him longer, much longer, to realize that he would never age again.
His instinctive reverence of the ancient deity his people revered obsessively earned him the greatest gift his otherworldly mother could bestow- eternal life. Yet, it’s just as much a curse for he hungers still, wildly and uncontrollably. He spent much of the coming years hunting for not only food that would fill his ever empty belly, but for knowledge to fill the vast halls of his mind.
Trips home were indulged in and a niggling weakness began to surface. It soon became apparent to the young rebel that he couldn’t stray far from the land he’d been born to or a weakness of body came about. For this reason, and this reason alone, several canopic jars grace his home. Each one filled to the brim with the soil of his homeland. These jars are his protection against the ravages time and space wreaks upon his body. Although this practice may seem morbid to some, it protects him from the promise of death, for he would surely die eventually without contact with the ancient soil.
Although he’s immortal insomuch as he can’t die by natural means (old age and or any disease- though he can fall prey to a dastardly virus as easily as most humans), Bunta can easily die at the hands of his enemy should a blow be fatal.
However, a fear of death has never stilled his tongue when it came to vampires after his last visit home to pay his respects to his aging parents. Upon his arrival to his homeland, he learned of their death at the hands of a clan of vampires known widely throughout Egypt. The bloody rampage he went on after learning this taught him the folly of giving into his rage so he rarely loses his temper, preferring to patiently wait for a moment to strike for vengeance. And even though the vampires who killed his parents no longer live (they died by his hands after all) he still holds all the creatures of the night in contempt and will never hesitate to tweak their noses or to be a constant thorn in their sides.
Such a rebellious nature still guides the rather secretive werecat who later made his home in the city of angels, a place of myriad possibilities and boundless citizenship. Here he’s found a mix and mingle of all the races and feels completely at home sitting on the sidelines, watching in silence and in stealth does he steal their secrets.
Marui the Rebellious. Marui the Shadowed One. Marui Bunta. Whatever name he goes by, he is still Bunta, a descendent of the pure bloods and he never hesitates to point out his superiority to those he deems of lesser standing.
Present Time:: Having secured himself a place among Sanada’s tribe, he spends much of his days teasing the youngest kits of the tribe. Kamio Akira holds not only his contempt for being who and what he his, but his respect (this he’ll never admit aloud) for surviving the trials of his life and thusly he has garnered the sharp-edge of Bunta’s tongue more than once over the past few years.
Preferring his own company to that of his adoptive tribe, Bunta has settled down in a somewhat plush suite of apartments above one of the local mystic bookstores where he feeds his hunger for knowledge with the books that they sell.
A student by day, he spends the sunlit hours studying drama and dance at one of the most prestigious schools in the city (To choose a lesser Academy goes against the teachings of his parents) and the night… the night he twilights as a stripper at a joint in the roughest parts of the city. This makes it easier to find his prey when his hunger can’t be satisfied by what he terms human food.
Lately he’s been drawn to a bar called Hackles and has been known to wile away a few hours there, secluded at the bar while the nightlife of the were unfolds for him. Loner by choice as much as he is by nature, he rarely mourns his lack of a mate, but sometimes, when the moon is riding high across the sky, he does feel that tug to find one whom he can share the secrets he’s gathered with.
A foolish whim that he hasn’t indulged in….
Yet.
OOC: Bio subject to change. xD
Also note that this character is above the age of consent.
Name: Marui Bunta
Age: Older than even he remembers.
Apparent Age: 21
History::
Marui Bunta was born in the ancient land of Egypt during a time that a Jackal-headed God was still worshipped and Bast was revered all over lower Egypt. Created from the love of two feline Bubasti, he spent most of his younger years living the life of a cat revered in his homeland for his connection to the Goddess herself. In later years, during his teens he experienced his first change, shifting from feline to human and later learning that his rage; depending upon it’s greatness; could bring about a far more terrible change to a mindless creature who slew without qualm.
He was the apple of his parents eye, doted upon and loved as they had chosen to name him according to their obsession with a country and culture that wasn’t their own. However, despite the love they held for him, they expected him to follow their rules (often times unreasonable and strict beyond measure), a stricture that tightened a noose about his neck the older he grew.
His kind were all but dead, dying out with the ages and the coming of the Kindred. The many wars that broke out continued to kill off those of the purest bloodlines, leaving behind a few survivors of which his family was some of the few.
On his 18th birthday, he was ordered to marry a girl who’d been handpicked by his parents and the tribe. Bunta- already chaffing against the hold his tribe’s rules held over him- waited for the darkest hours of the night, packed what few belongings he could (including a few ancient tomes holding the written secrets of his kin) and lit out for parts unknown.
Because of his innate hunger, so vast that it often goes without being sated, Bunta spent much of his travels starving for not only knowledge but for food of all kinds. It was on the banks of England that he nearly met his end at the age of twenty-one. Starved to nothing but skin and bones, he stumbled off the ship he’d stowed away on and collapsed in the dirty, dank alleys of the docks.
Lying there, knowing that each breath he took drew him closer to the end, the young shadowcat whispered a last prayer to the Goddess of his homeland. He called out for her attention, her love and guidance and it was there that the Lady of Cats first appeared to him in the guise of a white tiger. Gentle and kind The Mother nursed him, whispered secrets in his ear and advised him. Shortly after, he awoke to the knowledge that he no longer hungered and that his belly, for once, seemed to be full. It took him longer, much longer, to realize that he would never age again.
His instinctive reverence of the ancient deity his people revered obsessively earned him the greatest gift his otherworldly mother could bestow- eternal life. Yet, it’s just as much a curse for he hungers still, wildly and uncontrollably. He spent much of the coming years hunting for not only food that would fill his ever empty belly, but for knowledge to fill the vast halls of his mind.
Trips home were indulged in and a niggling weakness began to surface. It soon became apparent to the young rebel that he couldn’t stray far from the land he’d been born to or a weakness of body came about. For this reason, and this reason alone, several canopic jars grace his home. Each one filled to the brim with the soil of his homeland. These jars are his protection against the ravages time and space wreaks upon his body. Although this practice may seem morbid to some, it protects him from the promise of death, for he would surely die eventually without contact with the ancient soil.
Although he’s immortal insomuch as he can’t die by natural means (old age and or any disease- though he can fall prey to a dastardly virus as easily as most humans), Bunta can easily die at the hands of his enemy should a blow be fatal.
However, a fear of death has never stilled his tongue when it came to vampires after his last visit home to pay his respects to his aging parents. Upon his arrival to his homeland, he learned of their death at the hands of a clan of vampires known widely throughout Egypt. The bloody rampage he went on after learning this taught him the folly of giving into his rage so he rarely loses his temper, preferring to patiently wait for a moment to strike for vengeance. And even though the vampires who killed his parents no longer live (they died by his hands after all) he still holds all the creatures of the night in contempt and will never hesitate to tweak their noses or to be a constant thorn in their sides.
Such a rebellious nature still guides the rather secretive werecat who later made his home in the city of angels, a place of myriad possibilities and boundless citizenship. Here he’s found a mix and mingle of all the races and feels completely at home sitting on the sidelines, watching in silence and in stealth does he steal their secrets.
Marui the Rebellious. Marui the Shadowed One. Marui Bunta. Whatever name he goes by, he is still Bunta, a descendent of the pure bloods and he never hesitates to point out his superiority to those he deems of lesser standing.
Present Time:: Having secured himself a place among Sanada’s tribe, he spends much of his days teasing the youngest kits of the tribe. Kamio Akira holds not only his contempt for being who and what he his, but his respect (this he’ll never admit aloud) for surviving the trials of his life and thusly he has garnered the sharp-edge of Bunta’s tongue more than once over the past few years.
Preferring his own company to that of his adoptive tribe, Bunta has settled down in a somewhat plush suite of apartments above one of the local mystic bookstores where he feeds his hunger for knowledge with the books that they sell.
A student by day, he spends the sunlit hours studying drama and dance at one of the most prestigious schools in the city (To choose a lesser Academy goes against the teachings of his parents) and the night… the night he twilights as a stripper at a joint in the roughest parts of the city. This makes it easier to find his prey when his hunger can’t be satisfied by what he terms human food.
Lately he’s been drawn to a bar called Hackles and has been known to wile away a few hours there, secluded at the bar while the nightlife of the were unfolds for him. Loner by choice as much as he is by nature, he rarely mourns his lack of a mate, but sometimes, when the moon is riding high across the sky, he does feel that tug to find one whom he can share the secrets he’s gathered with.
A foolish whim that he hasn’t indulged in….
Yet.
OOC: Bio subject to change. xD
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