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My strings are pulled by... Marli-oneechan
You can call me... Jiao-long
I've lived through... Well over a thousand and one hundred years I’ve been here.
See me as a... Yuan Gui
I can assure you, I am... Male
I would call myself... homosexual
I tend to be... Innocent, vicious when threatened, scared, but lively when my joy is sparked. It’s hard for me to stay unhappy for long once I’m cheerful again. I will hide myself in my memories, not listen unless there’s something truly remarkable about you, just absorbed in my own fear or otherwise. This doesn’t mean I’m shallow, however… but I will be silent most of the time.
My tale begins with... My time of life. Looking in the King’s record books and making my own deductions thus far, I’ve seen that I live nineteen years. From the year Eight hundred and fifty-one to the year Eight hundred and seventy, I was still considered human. Now, I am not only forgotten, but wiped off of the face of the earth. My existence means nothing to people, who don’t believe in my kind. Every person I try to tell laughs at me, as if they know what I do. As if they know how my poverished parents sold me into slavery so long ago, and I have yet to escape. How I danced for lustful men without knowledge of where I was. How my eyes were burnt out by too many hours of daylight, and how my form is solid, despite my ghostly breed. How I never bed or wed a woman, and my only lovers have ever been men, bringing shame to my family name, for whatever it has left to bring shame upon.
The Chinese that still practice our old ways know what I am—they fear and shun my kind. I am what they and I call Yuan Gui: a betrayed ghost. A spirit who, in their life, was accused of a crime that they did not commit, and was hanged for their “misdeeds.” That is who I am. Though I was not hanged—no, I was poisoned. I have no scars to tell what I have done, or had done to me; besides the broken trust that shackles me more than these cruel collars they place on my neck, barred with magic to prevent me from escaping.
My name, Jiao-long, means “looks of a dragon” meaning beautiful, sincere, wise. Three of which I will never be seen as again. The only real trace of dragon on me is the long tattoo on my back and around my stomach. Mighty, black, and ending with the right fore claw of the beast touching the spot on my chest where a heart should beat, but does not. My black hair shines in the light, and my countenance refuses to come along..
My collar is... Silver, Cyan, Green, with small heart, star, cloud.
Give me a... Master that knows what they’re doing. I can’t control myself, and if they can, then… very good. One that talks and asks me questions instead of the other way around would be great.
I belong to... N/A
 Marli-oneechan · Sat May 09, 2009 @ 05:56am · 3 Comments |
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