VESSEL NAME: Vitaliya Safronova.
DEMON NAME: Vichaya.
NICKNAMES: Vita, Taliya.
TITLES: The Arbiter of Hounds, The Collector & Wintertide Tempest.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.
SOCIAL RANK: High Class.
POSITION (V): Historian & Archaeologist.
ETHNICITY (V): Russian.
NATIONALITY (V): Russian.
LANGUAGES: Too many, ancient.
EYE COLOUR: Gray/Green.
HAIR COLOUR: Gold dyed Stygian.
SKIN COLOUR: Porcelain.
WEIGHT: 178 lbs ( 80 kg ).
HEIGHT: 5'6" ( 167.64 cm ).
BODY TYPE: Hourglass & Curvaceous.
DOMINANT HAND: Left.
AURA: Burning, Cold & Imposing.
PHOBIAS: Philophobia, Thalassophobia & Asthenophobia.
Destruction follows the wake of her step, whether it be physical or emotional. Confrontations form with how blunt she is capable of being, along with painfully quick-witted responses. She maintains that she is a superior person, even in the human world and doesn't have the humility to deny that factor. There are various forms of tactics she uses, whether it be switching from licentious behaviour to innocuous. She is of a high-class status and holds herself as such, maintaining both intelligence and predatory grace that forces most people to be fixated. She is meticulous, tactful and final. Known as an Arbiter, she is quite used to her judgement being the final decree on anything while she maintained status. She is absolute.
THE ARBITER & HOUND
Vichaya licks the blood off her fingers, and she looks like divine absolution. There is a low hum. How the room shuddered and trembled beneath her feet, and there is malcontent in her voice, mellifluous requisition for his attention, the chide of his ignorance. He would fall like any other beneath her decree, the final revolution. Befouling crowns, she stood atop the bones of kings and used their mangled bodies as fertilizer for her gardens. She waded through the debris of history, over the corpses of queens, the remains of royal courts, and ruins of empires. Each time she disappeared with a whisper; a potential colour of foreshadowing for how it all may end. The one thing that remained constant, was that history always repeats itself.
BACKGROUND & RELIC DETAILS COMING.
❛ You are a shadow, wreathed in the judgment of darkened cathedrals, bloodied rose gardens, sacramental souls lying scattered on the floor. And I, I am frightened by your scent like opium, like rust in the rain. ❜