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My Love Sparks Bright
~Name~
Pyro
~Age~
19
~Appearance~
Pyro is usually seen strolling around in nothing more then an opened jacket that flows as he walks, and a pair of jeans. His eyes are of a dark crimsoned color, that accent his blood-colored hair. His hair, just past shoulder length, follows his jacket and trails him as he moves. A smirk is usually on his face, which reveals a lone fang.
~Pet~
Rum - Pyro's four-legged companion, who's usually not too far away. Drinks alcohol (Where Pyro got the name for the pup) almost as much as Pyro. Very playful, loves to make things harder for his two-legged friend then they must be. Extremely nice and playful, but has been known to attack those who deserve a bite or two.
~Weapons~
Control over the element of flame, and an old ragged whip that is concealed within his jacket.
~Relations~
Parents - Unknown
Sister - Ellyana
~Bio~
Pyro, The Red-Haired One, is a drifter. He doesn't remember much of his past or family, only that at a young age there was a massive explosion wherever it was that he called home. He doesn't think much of it, since there isn't a whole lot to dwell on. He travels from place to place, usually bar-hopping. He's charismatic, having very few enemies and a great number of friends. He's very laid back and easy going, but he's also very alert. He may not look it, but he's fought through Hell and back, so he's not one to push around. He's extremely protective of those he bonds with, which can be both a blessing and a curse. He's always had the power over fire, but it has been further developed and deepened since his experience with The Keeper, a story he tells very few. A young girl by the name of Ellyana has just recently laid claim to be a part of his forgotten family as his little sister.Yer Heart's A Flame I Shall Ignite
Love Is The Heart's Inner Fire
~Name~
Ellyana
~Age~
17
~Appearance~
Ellyana is a small, petite girl. She dawns a slim t-shirt, a pair of form-fitting jeans, and a pair of simple sneakers. Her hair, which drapes to her lower back, is of a faded-pink color. Her eyes are of a beautifully deep violet tint. Around her neck lies a golden chain that connects to a simple box-locket that she keeps hidden under her shirt. The locket dangles at her chest, she keeps it close to her heart since it holds the only thing she has left in the world.
~Weapons~
Control over the element of water, and a razor sharp crescent tied to the end of a rope that can be found hanging from her left hip.
~Relations~
Parents - Deceased
Brother - Pyro
~Bio~
Ellyana grew up as any child did, except she had the gift of manipulating water in its various states. Besides her gift, she grew up normally, until her parents succumbed to illness. She had to take up the responsibility of caring for them both, forced into adulthood before she reached her teens. Just before her Sweet 16, her father passed. Shortly after, her mother followed. Before her mother passed, Ellyana was given the locket her mother always wore. Her mother's last breaths were put into a dying wish:
"Find him...Your brother will take care of you..."
She has traveled in search ever since. The locket held a pair of pictures on the inside. One side held a younger picture of Ellyana, while the opposite was home to a young red-headed boy. Her brother was the one thing that drove her search. She's been hot on the trail of the mysterious red-head, and has recently found the one she'd been trailing.
Lust Is The Heart's Animal Desire
Death By Rock
~Name~
Jericho
~Age~
23
~Appearance~
Jericho is bound from head to toe in black. All his clothing clings to his body: his boots, his pants, save for his jacket, which is ever opened and flowing. His jet black hair matches his attire greatly, which allows his dark emerald eyes to stand out.
~Weapons~
Hanging from his right belt loop is a pair of make shift holders, each sheathing a separate drumstick. He believes in music as a weapon at a whole other level.
~Bio~
Jericho was born, raised, and abandoned where any other rock star worth noting grew up. The City of Angels. Los Angeles. He didn't grow up completely without parents. His father was around long enough to tack his name on the boy before disappearing from the story, and his mother managed to put up with him to the age of sixteen. Fighting, drinking, and constant visits from the local police were a common thing for Jericho. He grew up stealing, perfecting the art since the beginning of seventh grade, which could be viewed as a double edged sword. The stealing helped finance his need for a cheap thrill, empty wallet, drinking addiction, and his first taste of the musical world.
He was seventeen and on his own, doing what he knew to get by each day. He managed to move up the theft ladder, from lockers and desks at school, to big stores and local shops in town. He tried to steal a guitar from a small no-name shop. He would've gotten away with it had there not been an entering customer the same moment he went for the instrument. The owner of the shop left Jericho with a black eye, soar muscles, and striking headache. The boy managed to pocket a pair of drumsticks as he scrambled out of the store. He fixed himself a pair of make-shift sheathes for the sticks, which he allowed to hang off his right most belt loop. He didn't make it out of the music store with the guitar to sell for cash, but he managed to get his hands on what he considered a trophy at least.
A trio of adolescents around Jericho's age were buzzed and started calling him out as he walked by their group. He managed to ignore all their comments and threats, except for one: "Why don't you play us something, poser b***h!?" Not one to ever back down from a challenge, he turned on his heels and pulled both drumsticks. He used the city as his drum set, playing on everything from building sides, to trash cans. His natural, hidden, talent emerged. The beat he laid out on the LA streets that night surprised the trio, almost as much as himself. The trio of boys gave him the respect he'd earned, and on words laced with the scent of hard liqueur, invited him to practice and play with them for the city-wide battle of the bands. The four of them rose through the ranks up to national stardom, all before they were twenty one. The rest, as they say, is history.
Death By Roll
 PyroAtLarge · Mon May 26, 2008 @ 01:46am · 1 Comments |
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The poison
Drips from crimson lips
A trance
Induced by rhythmic hips
She'll run
She knows that she can't hide
Can't break
The bond that's been tied
Her kiss
Provocative yet sweet
The hearts
Two as one they beat
Can't climb
Out the hole that she's dug
Addicted
Affection is her drug
Trapped in arms of mine
(Her prison of love)
Convicted she'll shine
(Volunteer caged dove)
For a passionate crime
My prisoner of love
Vanilla skin
Emerald gleams her eyes
There's magic
Heard in her night sighs
She dreams
Desires don't ask much
She lusts
For the night fall touch
Approved
Given with a nod
She claws
At the back of her God
Hurt's gone
The pains but a ghost
Locked up
By what she loves most
Trapped in arms of mine
(Her prison of love)
Convicted she'll shine
(Volunteer caged dove)
For a passionate crime
My prisoner her love
--Bridge--
She'll run
She knows that she can't hide
Can't break
The bond that's been tied
--Repeat and fade--
Trapped in arms of mine
(Her prison of love)
Convicted she'll shine
(Volunteer caged dove)
For a passionate crime
My prisoner of love
PyroAtLarge · Sat Jun 16, 2007 @ 04:36pm · 1 Comments |
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Lightning strikes the open sky
Stroke of the hour time to die
Life you've lived oh so well
Open wide the gates of Hell
Make your plea and make it fast
Make your case for it's your last
Pray you're right pray it's true
Hell's jury sentences you
Death by rock
Death by roll
Fate's been sealed
Rock hard, go!
There's nothing left that you can do
You think you've won but we own you
There's no more yielding
You're our guitar wielding
Slave of Rock
Denim and leather you now wear
"Shred with this axe" is all we dare
Rock them hard rock them all
Condemn the masses heed our call
You may love but do not hate
This is your life this is your fate
Rock each note rock each verse
Rock the verdict rock your curse
Death by rock
Death by roll
Host Hell's own
Metal show!
There's nothing left that you can do
You think you've won but we own you
There's no more yielding
You're our guitar wielding
Slave of Rock
Death by rock
Death by roll
Fate's been sealed
Rock hard, go!
There's nothing left that you can do
You think you've won but we own you
There's no more yielding
You're our guitar wielding
Slave of Rock
PyroAtLarge · Sat Jun 16, 2007 @ 04:13pm · 0 Comments |
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