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![]() NAHUAQUE, xochiquetzal
| Xochiquetzal Acatl |
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Unregistered
Group: Member
Posts: 1
Member No.: 31
Joined: 14-August 07
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__++hello. my name is…name/nickname::
age::
experience::
other characters here::
NOT FINISHED! Erm... I'll finish tommorow. Can I request a name change, though, please? __++you can call me…
&&__basic information full name:: Xochiquetzal [say it ~ "shok i KAY tsal"] Tloque Nahuaque. Xochiquetzal was originally named Rosalía Alicia Dávila but some names, like some people, are eventually outgrown by the people who were meant to bear and care for them and discarded. Xochiquetzal would absolutely die if someone were to call her Rosalía ever again. The pseudonym Xochiquetzal, adopted by her many aeons ago, is as befitting as any; with the Aztec meaning of "flower feather", it is the name of an Aztec goddess long ago forgotten by those who once worshipped her. Her middle and surname together form the phrase Tloque Nahuaque ["Lord of the near and the nigh"], which was an epitath of the great and feared Aztec god Tezcatlipoca
nickname(s):: Xoch [~ "shok"]; Quet; Quetzal [~ "KAY tsal"]
birthdate:: 29th December
age:: 299 years old; and, boy, does she feel old some days. Two hundred and ninety-odd... imagine that. All that she once knew and hated is dead and gone. Imagine that. Sometimes it's quite a kick in a teeth that ole' grim got his hands around her father's neck before she managed to; really, she'd have much rather have killed him herself rather than let nature take its course. In fact, some days, without the right to the vengence that slipped out of her fingers, some days without having any true -purpose-, she feels quite out of place... no, more like, quite out of time.
ethnicity:: spanish
orientation:: heterosexual
species:: vampire
belongs to:: meutrier
title:: member; not the most trustworthy one, at that. Her own personal gain comes before that of any clan or club which she could think of belonging to&&__physical descriptionheight:: 5'6
weight:: 136
eye color:: blond
hair color:: brown
body type:: Xochiquetzal has a deceptive build. On first glance, she appears languid and slender, almost pathetically scrawny. What one realises sooner or later about Xoch, though, is that au contraire to any impressions one might get about her being scrawny, Xoch is...compact. She's strong, is Xoch, small and scrunched up into such a small bundle. Despite how slender and fragile she might appear, she has a grasp like a vice and is such a little package of fury that her body type is best described as lithe, languid and secretly strong, jaded and toughened and built for survival.
distinguishing marks:: A handful of bad-enough scars simply caused by nearly three hundred years of life - a wide scar on her hip and a slight one on the back of her knee and a curved on one the inside of her wrist; all and none with stories to tell, because the incidents were never as dramatic as the mementos they left behind. She has a relatively petite and discrete tattoo of a jaguar, painted in indigo-black, on her back, clawing its way up to her shoulder-blade. Call it a tribute, call it a trademark, if you will.
dress style:: Xochiquetzal's dressing style is unpredictable, a cross between modern tastes and the fabrics and colours of stereotypical old South America. She likes warm, rich colours - darkened forest green, a soft red-brown turned, umber and gold and ochre and ultramarine blue and cream. In all honesty, one really can't peg a dressing style to Xoch; it's more as if she stocks everything and anything in her closet and simply throws on whatever she feels like in the morning. Sometimes she can be seen in skirts and blouses and beads and jewels, the next day in comfortable casual, other days in utterly modern, other days grungy and post-modern. Most of the time, however, she carries with her some tribute to her Spanish-American heritage and the Aztec culture she's so strong afflieted herself with; be it the obsidian pendant, polished to a mirror sheen, which always hangs from a slender neck, or her evident preference for going everywhere barefoot. Xoch doesn't like shoes; in fact, you could say that Xoch hates shoes.
portrayal:: elisha cuthburt
picture::
&&__personality testlikes::[+] nasty old man alcohol which can take out one's sinuses; whisky, scotch, that kind of thing
[+] prescription drugs
[+] blood; human, not animal. Yuck.
[+] blood. Could we make it any more obvious? No explanation needed, unfortunately
[+] nicotine
[+] tempting fate
[+] Classical Nahuatl
[+] the arrogant, arsehole kind of man [everyone makes mistakes]
[+] Aztec culture
[+] vampires
[+] South America
[+] violent weather
[+] splatterpunk novels
[+] firearms
[+] black humour
[+] sarcasm
[+] unique people and things
[+] making an impact
[+] obsidian
[+] not fighting fair
[+] conflict
[+] danger
[+] unpredictable events
[+] hunting
[+] getting her own way
[+] shock factor
[+] antiheros
[+] villains - Hannibal Lecteur to Freddie Kruegar dislikes::[-] Most werewolves
[-] humans
[-] cultural imperialism
[-] her parents
[-] her FATHER especially, may he rest in pain
[-] relationships
[-] lots and lots of people, for various reasons
[-] mini baby vamps
[-] wimps
[-] people who cry
[-] justice
[-] luck and fate
[-] "fairness" - life isn't fair, deal with it
[-] "Zok-chee-qwet-zal"; "Zo-ki-qyu-et-zal"
[-] people invading her personal space
[-] being -touched-. Oh, it's fine if she says you can, but if not, be prepared to be slaughtered
[-] romanticism and naive people
[-] sense of humour bypasses
[-] safety and monotony
[-] shoes and, the devil, socks
[-] superstituous crap
[-] relying on others
[-] emotional baggage
[-] stupid people
[-] mental inactivity
[-] animal blood
[-] modern organised religions bad habits/quirks::[-] Xoch's undeniable worst habit is that of misleading people. Like... there are some foolish teenagers who would sell their soul to the night. Xochiquetzal likes to target them, for kicks. She dislikes very young vampires out of principle and hates those who take the decision to become a vampire lightly, on a whim. So what does our lovely Xochiquetzal do? She approaches those foolish goth-y teenagers and bleeds them, kills them, makes them think that she'll change them but never does, and makes sure it looks like some cult thing gone wrong... or whatever. It doesn't matter anyway - they were people of no sustinance. They were as lousey in life as they are in death.
[-] She's unpredictable, and not in the good sense; in the smile sweetly, make a cheesy joke and -then- rip out their throats kind of unpredictable; the pseudo-insane whirlwind downright -dangerous- kind of unpredictable
[-] Undeniably picky about people pronouncing her name right
[-] Chews her bottom lip when in thought
[-] Likes, if she has the chance, to offer her victims to have 'any last words' they might want to say, from "Screw you, you crazy hoe" to "Crap, I left the gas oven on". It's only fair; it's her compassion
[-] Says "Bite Me" a lot favorite bloodtype:: Spanish blood, decanted in Madrid, warmed under a mediterannian sun. Failing that, she's not picky; hey, what about AB-? Plenty rare, AB-, a real delicacy. It was Xochiquetzal's bloodgroup back when she was human, and she was always told that it was damn rare. Xoch maintains that if you land a meal of AB-, you should consider yourself lucky; after all, what're the odds?
general description:: You could call Miss Xochiquetzal screwed up, but then the question 'what if she isn't really screwed up?' would haunt you for the rest of your life. There's more to Xoch than meets the eye, in some respects. In other respects she's pretty much damn all on display with nothing below the surface. But you want Xochiquetzal in a nutshell? Now, that's got to be difficult...
- Unpredictable ~ being unpredictable is the defining feature of Xochiquetzal, the cornerstone of what it means to be Xoch. Xochiquetzal is the girl who'll crack a cheesy joke before ripping out someone's throat who, at nearly three hundred years old, is still the subject of wrecking mood-swings which make her nothing but dangerous. Some people are unpredictable, as likely to throw themselves off the metaphysical bridge as cross it, and it suits them. Some days Xoch is like that, unpredictable, but in a good way. Other days, she's unpredictable in the terrifying way; it's her hot blood, her free spirited nature, which makes her like a caged animal, a loaded gun, predictably unpredictable Xoch who can get one out of some tight situations, who save or damn those who associate themselves too closely with her as she feels fit. On a whim.
- A little psycho ~ Xochiquetzal is not psychotic, well, not entirely psychotic. Sometimes she'll hit the roof and bounce off the walls, sometimes she's a danger to herself and those around her, sometimes even those who know her well avoid straying too close because nobody can predict what she'll do, whether she'll smile sweetly or bite the hand that feeds. There are some things which are a bit twisted about her, but, needless to say, if that is true, which it is, Xoch is only -occasionally- a -little- psycho and not the whole package. She's not, in short, a flagrant risk and a liability.
- Blunt, frank and speaks her mind
- Sarky
- Independant
- Intelligent ~ the blond has brains! Xochiquetzal could be considered to be one of the more intelligent members of the clan, and, at nearly three hundred,
- Sharp
- Opinionated
- Good with words
- Conflict seeking
- Moody
- Witty
- Stand-offish and cold
- Sometimes blatently misanthopic
- Daredevil, adventurous
- Brash
- Adrenaline Junkie
- Pretty much damn Junkie
- Beyond screwed up &&__battle royaleartillary:: Xoch is a mean markswoman and good with a firearm. She's proficiant in the use of most kinds of firearms but only ever uses the generic light-weight hand-gun.
swordsmanship:: Xochiquetzal's understanding of knives and swords is limited to that they are sharp sticks and that the bulk of swordmanship is the knowledge that the pointy end goes into the other person and not oneself. Xochiquetzal uses a knife or sword only when completely necessary and keeps everything nice and quick to avoid mistake. The whole sword thing has never really been her scene.
martial arts:: Skilled enough in La Canne, silver rank savateuse [the highest common place rank]. Xoch's father was a keen supporter of Savate and, as it is, she was familiar with the sport from a young age. And, of course, the really nasty, vicious street-stuff, the no-rules, no-etiquette kind of thing.
combat:: hand-to-hand combat has always been Xochiquetzal forte. She's never really felt comfortable with a sword and guns are a modern enough invention, especially the little ones you can hide in purses and elsewhere, so Xoch has most experience in hand-to-hand combat. Xoch is, well, gifted, you could say, talented, you could say. At the end of the day, though, she fights downright dirty; brawling, trickery, street-fighting and biting. Sometimes one simply cannot decide whether Xochiquetzal fights more like a man or an animal, but she sure as hell doesn't fight like a girl. Xochiquetzal fights... nasty, really. Dirty, unfair and nasty.&&__family historyfather’s name::
mother’s name::
sibling’s name::
general history:: [about fifteen bullets worth of information. You’re summing it up.]~ Xochiquetzal Tloque Nahuaque or, as she was originally known, Rosalía Alicia Dávila, was born in south america in 1716 or thereabouts, to Amado and Emiliana Dávila, the youngest of three children and the only daughter born to the family of the Spanish chancellor of the wide, vast city into which she was welcomed. Her mother, Emiliana, was a giddy, fragile, girlish woman who had been convinced from day one that her child was a girl and had picked out the names with her handmaid, Fidelia, a forceably christianised woman of aztec origins. Rosalía, Emiliana's favourite name, and Alicia after her paternal grandmother. Xoch's father, however, had not wanted a girl; he had wanted another son. Hence it was that he had reason to snarl at and hate his daughter even before the complications of her premature birth left his pretty young wife bedridden for the rest of her life.
~ When Xoch was born, her father had initially not listened to his wife's whimpers of agony as the red blood which flowed from her stained the bedsheets white. Emiliana had suffered great hardships in her pregnancy; stomach cramps, unusual amounts of nausea and once had become delirious with pain, insisting that she was to lose the child and weeping futily until Amado snapped at her to cease. When his wife's contractions had started, the handmaids, peasents who had been forceably converted to the Spanish Catholic faith but had not truely left behind their Aztec roots, had tried to calm her, whispering in calming voices that in the Aztec calender, the 29th of december was one of five lucky days and it was best to try and avoid birthing the child, to keep calm and hope the baby would settle and not try to dart from the womb that day. Amado himself had cast a sceptical eye at his wife and her puffy, bruised face and told her that he suspected it was all in her head. Fortunately or rather, unfortunately, Emiliana proved her sanity by birthing her daughter that day but Amado only realised that there complications when his wife began to writhe and bleed even more than before. By some happy good fortunate, baby "Rosalía" was born and perfectly healthy, although a little small. Emiliana was, however, not so lucky.
~ Because her mother was too weak and father abhorred her, in her early years, Xochiquetzal was put into the care of one of her mother's handmaids and her family; Fidelia and her husband Mixcoatl and their three daughters. Raised by their tender hands so different from her father's cruel presence, Xochiquetzal came to see Fidelia as her mother and Mixcoatl as her father. As the same time, however, she was deeply concerned and confused; she could not see why her pale skin was so different from that of daughter Atl, darker and browner than she, she could not understand why her soft, curling locks were so different from the ebony hues of daughter Coatlicue or why her slightly snubbed nose and high cheekbones bore no resemblance to the soft, glowing roundness that both Atl and Coatlicue and Yohualticetl bore in common with their parents. Nonetheless, she had a happy childhood, wandering barefoot around the small peasent house, tended to and fiercely guarded by her makeshift guardians.
~ Every Sunday, Xochiquetzal's childish happiness would be shattered, however, as the family would go to church and whilst Fidelia's family would stand at the back of the church with bowed heads and pray to a god they historically owed no alligence to, Xochiquetzal would be led by the hand to go stand at the front of the church and pray with her father. The rest of the day would be spent with the chancellor, who would glower down at her with watery green eyes and ask questions, who would sneer at the answers and snap at her to sit up straight, who would cruely chastise his daughter for the state of her clothes or a smudge of dirt on her cheek. It was during one of these happy talks that Xochiquetzal's happy world was shattered forever, when she accidentally and innocently referred to Fidelia as 'Mama'.
~ Fidelia was harshly beaten and sacked from duty and Xochiquetzal was returned to the family home. She spent much time with her elder brothers, playing rough and tumble in the garden and rolling home happy and covered in mud to have her grin wiped from her face by her harsh and domineering father.
~ A fan of the sport of Savate, he did, nonetheless, recognise the need to teach his children dicepline through such an art and Xochiquetzal was trained in it from a young age, mainly for purposes of discipline. She did, however, surpass both her brothers in terms of skill and ability, something she was never praised for. She was often scolded for not indulging in more ladylike persuits and forced, physically forced, to sit by her ailing mother's beside to learn about embroidery and dresses and flower arranging.
~ At the age of eleven, following the death of her mother, who had suffered for eleven long years bedbound, Xochiquetzal ran away from home, fed up of the memories and ghost her girlish, useless mother, who was shocked and hushed her daughter every time that Xochiquetzal allowed something that Emiliana thought was inaproriate to slip her lips which seemed to haunt the place, and boisterous, cruel father. Remembering the warm streets of her childhood, she allowed her softly padding feet to lead her back to Fidelia's house. Knocking on the door, she came face to face with Atl, a girl she had once known as well as a sister turned into a young woman and nestling a sleeping baby in her arms. Unlike her kind parents, who were aging and poor, Atl did not take kindly to the girl that she saw as being nothing but trouble and marched her back to her parents' expansive home, to the livid, pallid face of her father. Xochiquetzal was beaten for her misdeeds by her father and sent, furious, to her room.
~ Xochiquetzal's childhood was an adventurous one to say the list, one comprised of several disasters and near disasters and several furious beatings from a father beyond consolation at the state of his unladylike daughter's behaviour. At night, when revellers would flood the streets and her father and brothers would retire to their rooms to sleep or read, Xoch would lay awake listening to the settling of the wide, vast home and the soft labouring of her family's breathing. When she was content that all were sound asleep, she'd mask herself - heavy make-up or her brother's dark indigo riding hood or something to render her unremarkable and unrecognisable and hide her bright blond hair - and pop the lock on the door and sneak out into the night. That was just another piece of evidence that Xochiquetzal could not be her parent's daughter - she was too reckless and spirited and untameable.
~ The moment she turned seventeen, Amado started looking for ways to get rid of his spirited daughter, forcing suitor after suitor upon her. Sometimes they were shipped in from mainland spain itself, polished, smarmy men who Xochiquetzal ignored the best she could; more often, they were the sons of high up spaniards who owned land in south america. Xochiquetzal was invited to dinners and dances, but whilst the greasy, unkempt and violent pirates and outlaws in coastal cities who caused her father no amount of grief caught her eye, these pristine men in pressed clothes never could. Eventually, in his fury, her father betrothed her to a nauseating waste of space called Felipe de Orellana.
~ The happy day arrived and hit Xoch like a freight train. Soon, she was naught but Rosa de Orellana, the wife of the governer of a bigger and more prosperous former aztec city, something which increased her father's holdings a great deal. Xochiquetzal, on her part, hated her husband greatly. She was married to him for three years and, during that time, no children were produced. A hand, seeking, was slapped away. An offer was scorned, no more was said on the topic and Filipe would spit spiteful words about his proud mule of a wife in amongst his circle of friends, regardless of whether Xochiquetzal heard him or not.
~ One fateful night, walking home alone from a dance, which was not the respectful thing to do but had been done anyway because of harsh words that had been said in pride and hot blood, Xochiquetzal saw -him-, the man who was to become her sire. Nahuaque Tlacateccatl, a vampire of over three hundred years at that time, and not a day over twenty-five physically and oh-so-perfect. He was the kind of man to make a girl like Xoch melt and he did well enough. Employed into the service of Xoch's wonderful then husband, he was the one who helped her knock him off and bury the corpse in the garden and the one who turned her, the one who owned her, the one who vanished into the night taking her, his little fledgling, with him
~ Xoch's sire was no crueler than her father had been and whilst he taught her the ropes of being a vampire and toughened her up to the world that awaited her, he had the advantage of being beloved by her. Some people hate their sires, some loathe them with a murderous fury... Xoch, simply and girlishly, loved and adored hers. It was he that renamed her the fateful night she was reborn as a vampire, brushing back strands of blond from her face which were wet and stained with her husband's blood, clasping the enraged, furious and resolute woman who was fed up, simply fed up, of everything and everyone and out to get mindless bloody revenge and, having killed a man, knew that she had done it because to live with him would have been soul destroying. Rosa, Nahuaque said, even Rosalia, was too plain a name for a creature like Xoch, and, even now, she couldn't keep her old human name once people realised what she'd done. He gave her an Aztec name; Xochiquetzal and the surname was one she took after his fateful demise. He named her after an Aztec goddess, a name which she's born ever since.
~ &&__proving your worthrole-playing sample:: [can be from anywhere, with any character, but make it worth my while since this profile isn’t exactly difficult]
member title:: [what goes off to the side ie: cant__[HANDLE] this]
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