WIP
Name:Konor Sheffield
Gender:Male
God Parent:Hades, Thanatos, Thanatos.
Mortal Parent:Hilda Sheffield
Appearance:
Personality:Konor is a moderately insecure person, only when it comes to his looks. He could never take a compliment, thinking he's always less than, and that nobody could ever love him, let alone like him. Given enough encouragement, he could push himself past his usual limits, though it usually ends up with him in pain somehow. Konor also has an addiction to being in love, a trait very hard to deal with given the fact his morals don't allow cheating. He's a funny person most of the time, but will fight hard for what he believes in. Also am respectful.
History:
Prologue
I awaken on an oddly cold summer day, to the sound of chirping birds and a light drizzle. Reluctantly, I arise from the soft comforts of the queen sized bed, much too big for the tiny apartment that it is concealed inside. I skirt around the edges of the bed, sidestepping the various clothes and trash strewn about the room. The door from my cozy dungeon to the kitchen (Which is also the living room. it's a small apartment.) is left open, and sign that my boyfriend left in the middle of the night, to his job as a mortician. It's an odd occupation, but intriguing. My kitchen is the complete opposite of my bedroom; clean, organized, relaxing.
On the counter under a window pane, which is peppered by droplets of accumulated raindrops, the kettle whistles on the stove. Gunther, my boyfriend, must not have left long ago. Next to the kettle, lying much too close to the fire, is a note. Written on the top in fancy calligraphy is my name, Hilda. Inside the small envelope are two plane, tickets. For America, none the less. Gunther must have really gone all out for this vacation.
I don the black trench coat I bought a few weeks ago, in preparation for this oncoming storm, and make my way outside. Since I have nothing on underneath, save for a a thin pair of pajamas, I wrap the trench coat against me tightly, and it accentuates my womanly form. I love the stares I get, an the awkward meetings that come when people are too busy staring to actually talk to me.
After a short walk around the drenched neighborhood I stroll into the mortuary where Gunther works. Even though he's instructed me not to walk in several times, I do anyways. None of the bodies or such has any affect on me. Sadly, countless hours on the internet has desensified me to things. I blame reddit.
From the main entrance to the cold room my love works in is a long walk, down an eerily lit corridor with blinking lights. After months of walking through here, I'm surprised they have not yet fixed the bulb, but I'm also impressed that the poor thing has lasted so long.
Peppering the the sides of this corridor are several doors, leading to offices and storerooms, but something odd catches my eye. As I pass Gunther's office, I notice pink cloth hanging from the inside doorknob, and I can hear the throes of passion. I refuse to believe Gunther could cheat on me, and my denial leads me to continue walking to the room he's usually in.
I push in the unlocked double doors, and am relieved to find my Gunther working at a table. His blonde hair and muscular build making him easily identifiable. Silently, I stalk over behind him, hugging him softly from behind. However, what surprises the piss out of me (Not literally) is that when he turned around, it was obviously not Gunther. His face was horribly scarred, unlike the smooth perfection that was my love. Sadly, it scarred me so much I fell back onto my ass, and scuttled back out of the room. I didn't mean to act so shallow but I was just so surprised.
It made me feel awful to do such a thing. I was much to flustered to go back in and apologize, but instead, Gunther's office beckoned my name. I crawled to his door and placed a hand on the cold stainless steel of the handle. Turning created a small click, and I found myself greeted by the naked bodies of Gunther, and one of his clients. The thing is, all of Gunther's clients are dead. Gunther laid on top of a cadaver, and I could tell because of the toe tag, and she wore MY clothes. Stolen from MY closet.
I felt...I felt disgusted. That the same man that defiled corpses has laid with me. However, i was also speechless. Quivering with disgust and fear, I reach into the purse hanging on my shoulder, and remove the same plan tickets he had bought for us. To think he had to ruin this vacation we've been planning for months. I tear his ticket, and only his ticket to shreds, before throwing it in his face and storming out of there, with tears streaming down my face in a continuous river.
After a few stops at a locksmith and a police department, I retired back at my now Gunther-proof apartment. It was here, looking staring out my window at the coffee shop next door that I realized I needed change in my life. Watching the american tourists drag about in the dreary sprinkle of a midsummer's night eve.
Chapter 1:America
I stand at the terminal in Frankfurt, annoyed by the bastards in traffic and the long wait to make it here through baggage. My legs are wobbly, as I've been on them non-stop for hours. The "comfort" of the padded chairs near the gate beckon my name, and without thinking I nearly fall asleep in the one I chose.
"7:15 to JFK Airport, New York, now boarding!" Screams out the PA system, rousing me from my semi-slumber. I take the carry on bag I have, and groggily make my way through the gates and onto the first class. Luckily, the seat Gunther had chosen for me was a window seat, but I didn't quite get to relish the view, as I was out within seconds of take off.
Upon awakening, with a kink in my neck and a strange man snoring on my shoulder, I was greeted to the skyline of a sparkling New York City. Lights were all over the buildings, shining reds and blues.
After a few moments in descent, we landed on the strip, and before I knew it i was standing in the new apartment I leased will staying in America. I don't plan on returning to Deustchland, but I doubt New York is the city for me.
Weapons:None
This needs a sig
Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight? -The Joker 01:41, August 25, 2013 (UTC)