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Join date : 2012-07-22

PostSubject: [LIPSOFSWEETDECEIT] Adalia Kisten   [LIPSOFSWEETDECEIT] Adalia Kisten Icon_minitimeMon Jul 23, 2012 5:59 am

Adalia Kisten

Name: Adalia Kisten

She holds the appearance of a 22 year old young woman, but there are none that can truly tell of the true age that she hides behind

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Alliance to: House Baratheon of King's Landing

Role in House: Madam Courtesan


Adalia’s life has been painted around the sweet nectar of the secrecy of where such beauty has emerged, and with that coy smile of plump, kissable lips, her alluring nature is seen in full force when confronting another, especially one of the opposite gender. Vanity holds no bounds to this diva of the night; knowing of the gorgeous flawless complexion of near perfection, she has few issues regarding her identity and the confidence of working in the nude, with trails of translucent material clinging to the curves of a voluptuous figure. Her vanity does not only pertain to her outward appearance, but helps to enhance a feeling of superiority over all the other women, somehow casting a shameful eye upon them, as she slips past within the night, taking the manhood of her clients as her delicious prize. She’s treacherous as she is beautiful, a cunning vixen amongst a flock of dim-witted sheep that have little knowledge of the manipulative skills she has learnt with that silver tongue coated in the sweetest of sugars and honeysuckle, sending words of praise and dirty lust toward ears that would beg for her hot breath against shivering flesh.
With a lascivious desire driving her forth to indulge in the sheer sins of fornication, she cares little for the debates of religion, holding no God as her own, other than that which promotes the sweet desires and condones the intimacy shared between two hormone-driven individuals. With that being said, there is seemingly only a few occasions when this temptress of King’s Landing does not seek the refuge of a man’s shaft desecrating her decadent Garden of Eden over and over again, screams of pleasure and sheer ecstasy an addictive drug that pushes her forth into a rougher style of coitus. She constantly seeks the thrill of sexual encounters, living for the orgasms of utter elation, while her sexual prowess helps conceal the trueness of her race.
Being a vampire, a terror that lurks within the darkness, is a hard ordeal to endure, specifically within her trade; however, with the name she has built for herself within the brothels and across the streets of King’s Landing, has helped eradicate this foul name, allowing her to indulge upon the blood of various clients that fall victim to those enticing lips that house fangs of razor sharp spears. Finding herself within the best possible position for enjoying the metallic warmth of a never ending supply of blood, Adalia has hate for the world that she lives within, learning to comfort what she has become, falling in to the treasures that her species has provided her, experience oozing from those swaying hips. She has little care for others, thinking of herself before others, often leading to cruel actions performed on her part; yet, with that luscious, delicious smile pulling at lips so plump and enticing, none could truly suspect the vixen of the serpent that she truly is.

Physical Description:

With hair of a fiery red to match the feisty temperament of this lascivious temptress, Adalia seems to be the epitome of a youthful beauty that never seems fade no matter the years that have faded away, armed with a flawless complexion that instils a green-eyed envy upon the faces of many women that cast an eye toward this immortal beauty of unnaturally good looks, with sex appeal heavily written upon each aspect of her features. Her lips are plump and extremely kissable, teased with a rosy hue to them that is imitated with the powder dabbed upon flesh so white and clear of blemishes upon her cheeks, perked higher with the definite bone structure that this fearsome woman of the night holds; her eyes are usually smudged with a dark charcoal to enhance the ice blue hue of those alluring eyes that seem to pull many a man in to her arms and toward those fangs that scream desire. Her flesh is pale, almost as pale as the incandescent moon that hangs loosely within the air, nestled between the bosom of a jet ink sky.

Regarding the shape of her body that so many seem to fall for, this feisty vixen possesses a neat, slender frame with voluptuous curves to accentuate her femininity and enhance the lusty desire many may have toward her; her breasts are large, mountainous, and perky upon her chest, often emphasized by the tight bustier corset-tops found upon her garments, or simply as her trade of work as the simple giver and provider of pleasure. However, on the few occasions where her breasts are not squashed upon her body, cleavage pulled down into a delectable chasm, the translucent material of chiffon emphasizes her exotic descent, and a heritage that many may not seem to familiar with within a kingdom she has now to call her home.

And, as if to complement the unnatural beauty of this vampire, her hair of varying shades of red, is an aspect of sheer loveliness, falling down her body to tickle the small of her back when left loose and wild; yet, simplicity was never once a thought upon her mind, causing this woman of the night to adopt an intricate method of styling her hair, ranging from the tight curls pinned into a braid atop her crown, or the wild untamed hair that has been teased considerably.

Powers and Abilities:

Adalia may not possess the supernatural powers as seen with the sorcerers, warlocks, and even shape shifters who are able to change their forms; yet, she has been blessed with an eternal beauty of immortality that is maintained by the intake of the blood of another to keep her ever-youthful appearance. With her race and advancement of her genetic makeup, Adalia has also been gifted with the inhuman strength, speed, and endurance that often surprise many a fellow that may look upon her tender flesh thinking her as nothing more than a weak woman ripe for the picking. Her body is also extremely lithe making her exceptionally good at what she does, bringing in an influx of people who are more than prepared to provide her with that sweet nectar which she requires more than anything else within the world. In short, a summary of her more unique powers are found below:

A Rose’s Rejuvenation:
With the intake of blood, whether it be from another immortal or whether it is from a mortal, the blood absorbed by her system and organs, helps to rejuvenate her skin, maintaining that everlasting beauty that shines over such flawless features able to mend surface wounds, leaving only a pin-prickle of scar tissue as a reminder of the shallow graze. If Adalia is to go without the taste of blood within her mouth, then her complexion will turn from that gorgeous soft pallor, to an ashen look, with veins of deep blue/black stretching over her skin, making it look as if she may crack apart at any moment.

Sweet Love’s Kiss:
With a simple bite, this femme fatale is able to induce a person’s body to experience an uncanny sense of sexual pleasure and delight, writhing beneath her hold and wanting nothing more than to feel her own nude body against their own in the sinful act of fornication, often scowled upon by others; it is with this ability that has allowed this woman of the night to thrive on the blood of another without worrying about killing the individual in the process and becoming an outlaw within the kingdoms.

The Voice of the Ancients:
Much like most vampires, telepathy was an attribute that she acquired when she was bitten by her more powerful creator who headed a large coven nestled within the bushes of a forest haunted by the whispers of the wind and the melancholic cries of the wolves; and, it is with this unnatural ability that Adalia is able to push herself into the minds of another, sensing what they are thinking and what they are feeling, using such information and insight to her advantage, and while she does not possess the ability to control and manipulate one’s mind, she does have the ability to communicate in this manner should she wish for none other to hear her sweet words. However, since she has not reached her elder status, this trait is little used for it often provides a migraine like no other.

The Gift of Light:
While it is said that each vampire turned by another takes a piece of his/her creator with them, Adalia was lucky enough to be bitten by a powerful elder that granted her an ability that has helped conceal her species for so long. Where other vampires shrivel within the light of day, Adalia is able to move beneath the a waning sun for a few minutes, making it easier for her to move upon the world; however, with her exposure to the sun, her skin becomes ashen, and for every minute exceeding the half hour exposed to the golden light of the sun, she grows weaker and weaker, requiring the taste of blood to regenerate faded energy. If she does not remove herself from the sun after this half hour, and the few lee way minutes of grace, then her body will fall to hot ash much like the others that have fallen to the fate of the sun.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Adalia’s personality strengths lie in her independence and the sweet nectar of her voice that is able to manipulate a great many fellows into following her lead and allowing her to indulge upon their blood for the eve of passionate love making; and while her promises of sheer ecstasy may retrieve what she truly desires, her true strengths lie in her ability to perform like no other, with her lithe body able to fold into many positions, while that spine-chilling bite helps to create that sexual desire that causes the flow of blood to increase to appendages. She is highly intelligent and cunning, with a keen sense of survival driving her forward to perform acts that ensure her well being within a world torn asunder by strife.
On a more physical front, Adalia’s strength is found within those granted to her by the immortal blood that flows through her veins; blessed with that ever-lasting beauty that helps boost her confidence, this woman of the night is more than capable of taking care of herself with fang and small knife to drive away men who want more than what they have received. With her enhanced strength and speed, endurance and agility, she is able to defend herself should she choose to; however, she does not take to fighting too often for she is not the malevolent individual filled with hatred for the world.

Part of her immortality comes with a hefty price, especially when it comes to managing her superb good looks and flawless complexion; blood is a necessity for this queen of the damned, without it, her cold heart shall already halt in its soundless beat, and her skin will fall away like the ashes of a fire. And with being a vampire, blood is the only nutritional compound that she may indulge upon, for the enzymes that are usually responsible for breaking down certain foods are no longer produced, leaving her unable to absorb the nutritional values of “normal” food, but, instead, cursing her to obtain energy via the warm metallic substance that flows through the veins of others. Without an intake of blood at least once every two days, her life shall cease to exist. A regular intake of blood is needed in order to fuel the few powers that she possesses.
Another weakness that she possesses, although less severe than the ordinary vampire, is that to sunlight, which she is only able to survive within for approximately half an hour after a fresh feeding; if she is caught within the sun without powering her body with the essentials needed to fuel this exhausting ability, then she will easily fall to ash like the others.
But these are mere physical weaknesses; on a personality front, Adalia’s determination and inability to know when she has been denied, or rejected, often awakens a terrible creature within this diva. She does not take well to men rejecting her luscious body, nor does she particularly deal well with this form of rejection, taking to more severe means of combating the pain by slashing her skin or scratching at walls, leaving nails ground down unevenly and bleeding heavily until her platelets kick in and scab the wounds. Or, on another extreme scale, Adalia may actually make to attack this person for not sharing the views of others about how beautiful she is, feeding the vain monster that lurks within her being.She also possesses little patience for other women and their whining whims, unable to comfort them with the maternal embrace, nor unable to feel for them, displaying a mild psychopathic tendency that estranges her from those who require the comfort of another.

Weapons and Armour:

Adalia holds little need to neither carry weapons nor drape her body in the heaviest armour, for she does not partake in the follies of men; instead, the only armour that befalls over those tender curves of a womanly figure is found in the form of the rarest of silks and the richest of velvets that cling to such a feminine frame. On a few occasions, a leather corset may act as some sort of armour, yet, this never does stay upon her body for too long, for it is usually torn away to reveal the soft underside of what she bears beneath.
Weapon-wise, all women who work in the trade of selling their bodies for whatever reasons they have, may often be required to defend themselves against the more forceful clients that will do almost anything to make the girls theirs, and, it is because of this, that this courtesan carries a little dagger gifted to her by a previous employer. It’s a pretty little thing that sits sheathed upon a garter tied to her thigh, possessing an intricate hilt of silver and rubies to represent her flesh and her hair contrasting one another, while the blade is the shiniest silver one could ever lay eyes upon.

Background History:

The Nightmare Begins...
This wench of the night was not always a woman of the darkness, no, for she used to be a mortal wrapped within the glimmer of the golden light, with copper braids of hair trailing over her shoulders and down her back, and the most gorgeous innocent smile that one could ever place eyes upon. Adalia Kisten was the product of love between two travelling mummers that wheeled their wagon throughout the lands entertaining the masses with their travelling showcase that involved a group of performers each displaying their own talents in the arts of pretence, bringing smiles to the faces that were stained with the concerns of everyday life, and creating mystical wonder for the children who gazed upon the colourful masks and eccentric costumes, which were all crafted by hand. At first, Adalia was kept suckling at her mother’s breast until it was her time to step upon the stage; then, the many hands that were found within the travelling showcase each leapt at the opportunity to care for the babe while parents performed their brilliant roles; however, soon enough this charismatic young girl was able to take to the wooden stage, undertaking minor roles required of her, dancing and singing with a melodic voice that welcomed a loud applause from the crowd. The family was perfect with the extensions of others to create the aspect of siblings, and while all seemed to be doused in the flames of perfection, a storm was brewing within the distance to upset the smiles that lingered upon cheerful lips that spoke their tales of sheer merriment.
One day, when the company was travelling through the confines of the thick forests that were found about the lands of the North, returning toward their beginning roots within King’s Landing, an ambush set horse’s kicking hooves high, and the wagon to bash against the rocky road. Bandits dressed in ragged clothes slipped from the trees, massacring all who stood within their paths; screams filled the air as throats were slit to produce a gurgling sound, tears rolled down the faces of the women, while the men attempted to push these savage bandits away from the wagon, protecting the weak and defenceless, yet, this was futile for they were ripped through without a single ounce of mercy. The women, before being raped and taken many a time by the men, were left dumped about the place, licking the wounds and pulling torn clothes over their bruised bodies, unable to stand because of the tears that had slipped through their thighs. Adalia, on the other hand, had sought refuge beneath the wagon, hands over her ears, pressing small little palms down furiously to try and eradicate this hellish scene; yet, what caused her to gasp so suddenly, revealing her position, was the thump of her mother’s bruised body upon the earth, right before her eyes.
“Well ‘ello there pretty.” One of the scoundrels spoke, eyes of white eyes peering beneath the wagon while teeth elongated like those of the wolves smiled down upon her, blood shimmering ruby tears off of his chin. Hands made to grab the little body of the girl that hid away from these strange folk. She batted it away sharply, turning on her belly and attempting to crawl away, yet, her advance was halted as a firm hand closed over her pale leg, and dragged her out with a strength that she had never known before. She kicked, and she fought, with each breath that wriggled through her body; but she could not escape the grip of the man that had wrapped her within his strong arms. “You’ll be quite the treat.” He licked his lips, saliva slipping from fangs toward the stubble of his chin.
“You will not touch the child.” A voice of refined velvet slipped through the night, words accentuated by a regal tone that could never match the appearance of these mongrel bandits.
“But, my liege...”
“No, buts... Bring her to me.” The voice was demanding, authority oozing from every single elegant word that drifted on the air, painted with the silver of majesty among the commoner.
Adalia was carried toward the origin of the voice, still squirming restlessly within hands that seemed to clamp down upon her form far too tight, while tears of grief and terror careened off the sides of her cheeks. She closed those bright blue eyes, not wishing to stare upon the face that had granted her some relief from the grubby handed man that held tightly upon her, staining the innocence of her white dress with the ruby tears of the dead.
“Open your eyes, child.” The voice said. Yet, she kept her eyes tightly shut. Open your eyes, child. The voice sounded again, this time it rang clearly within her mind, forcing the young girl’s eyes to snap open, looking wildly up at the figure who stood so tall and noble before her. “Release her.” He commanded, and she was set down upon the ground with a soft grumble of disapproval from her captor. The man, draped in garb completely different to the torn rags of his brigands, fell to his haunches, finding the same height as the girl with fire red hair. His eyes of white ice fell into her oceanic hues, before a finger, as cold as death, brushed against her cheek, a soft hushing sound escaping between smooth lips. “You will be my prize, girl.” He whispered to her, fingers closing over her neck, squeezing upon her wind pipe, before dragging her closer to where he sat. And then, pain filtered through her little body as he bit down upon the pale flesh of her neck, drawing blood, drawing the life from her petite body, sending her falling, crashing, and tumbling into the dark abyss.

Nothing More Than A Little Doll:
She awoke with a start, eyes flicking away the darkness of her endless slumber; blurred objects of indefinite shape greeted her vision as she rolled over on to her side, small hands pressing against the soft feather-down mattress of a small four poster bed draped in silks of white and royal red velvet covers. Her neck felt tender, sore, and bruised; her head felt as light as a feather, but, she would not allow the weakness of sleep to befall her courageous little form once again. She shook her head slightly, sending tousled messy braids of copper flying about, before a soundless gasp eased its way from her busted lips; in the very corner of her room sat a man, the man from before, the man that was garbed in robes that could have been those of a noble man. She looked about her, eyes falling upon the lavish items hidden away within the darkened room that bore no sunlight to eyes that had changed from the deep blue of the oceans to a cold ice blue that spread the terrors of death upon the air. She said not a word, but simply sat upon the plush bed, confused, frightful, and almost alone.
“Do not fear, my child.” The man spoke after another second of silence spilled into the air that bore the rich scent of exotic incense and beautiful flowers sat within a vase upon a dark wooden table. “You have been saved from death.” A smile lingered over those lips of a winter’s kiss. “You see, your wagon was attacked, my dear, all were slaughtered. I am sorry for your losses.” His voice was an elegant relief to her ears that were still buzzing from what had happened, a memory lapsed into the void she had just pulled herself from. She could remember only snippets of the ambush, but that was as far as she could recall; how could she trust this man before her? She remained silent, her skin pale as porcelain against the flicker of a candlelit flame; eyes staring beadily at the man who sat upon the opposite side of the room, unmoving.
“How did you save me?” She challenged, finding her nectar voice suddenly, words falling from her thick lips so quickly that she had little time to shove them back in and hold a tongue that seemed to lash forth, seeking answers.
“By giving you the gift of life.” He smiled, before standing, gaining that tall eloquence that she remembered so vaguely from that vivid dream that dotted the blackness of her mind. “Do you remember the tales you were told of the creatures that lurk in the darkness and feed upon the blood of young maidens?” He took his seat by her side, brushing a cold finger over her pale cheek, sending shivers careening down her spine.
She nodded her head slowly.
“Well, you are now the creature of stories.” He said as if he were a proud father, pulling her closer to plant a cold kiss upon her forehead. “My beautiful child, you will shower the world with beauty and grace that you could never have dreamed of.” Another kiss tainted her brow as she sat there, staring out ahead of her, unable to wrap her mind around what she was to become.

The years had slipped by into decades, aging this grown beauty only by a few years, giving her a youthful appearance that overwrote the lines of experience that were devoid upon skin constantly being rejuvenated by the metallic substance that had started to taste so sweet to an unfamiliar palette. The beginning of this change had not been as smooth sailing as it was now that she had started to settle into the swing of things; she could still feel the pain slipping over her body, tugging at her bones and muscles, cartilage and tissues, making her writhe in agony and cry out as the morning sun rose to her full height. But now, holding the image of a young lady, Adalia knew of the tricks of the trade, finding those words that spoke of her beauty flitting through her mind as she stared within the mirror over and over again, fixing her hair, and smudging her eyes with charcoal; memories of her parents started to fade away, and now, her father figure remained her lover, a man that took her to his chambers and continuously taught her the treasures of the trade of love-making, biting down upon her flesh, before stabbing himself deeper into her very being. She had grown accustomed to the ecstasy that shivered through her body, and she grew ravenous for more, becoming the black widow that lured men into her web of lies, before stripping them of their manhood and taking their blood as she rocked hips back and forth each night.
She had become the true doll of the coven, a girl of gorgeous beauty than none could ever compare to; and it was with this beauty that she became the psychopath, detaching herself from the acts of fornication.

The Instinct to Return to One’s Heritage:
As she remained the sex slave to the Coven elder, pleasuring him in the ways she had been taught, she was soon to find herself with child, a strange sensation that altered her moods and made her far more sensitive to fingers sliding into her depths than before; she exalted the shivering lust that fell over her body each time she made love with the elder, each time he rang fangs over the soft contours of her impregnated form, yet, an event occurred that caused the hormonal immortal to commit a crime like no other. As she slipped through the manse deep within the woodlands, she heard a familiar voice flit upon the air, a smile forming over those luscious lips as she bounded forward to meet the man whom had won her heart, yet, what she saw was something that caused a disturbed expression to fall upon her face. Before her eyes stood another little doll with hair as black as the night and skin as pale as the moonlight; the words that escaped those cold lips of the elder were so familiar, were so alike those he had used to entrap her in a fantasy of delusion where she would lie with him when her body came of age. Her jaw hung loosely as she shuffled to hide herself behind the wall, watching with envy spilling over her form, jaw taut as the screams of treachery echoed within her head. When he had left the young girl, Adalia found herself sneaking into the shadows before grabbing the little girl by the throat.“You will not have him.” She hissed to the tears that rolled down the cheek of the freshly turned doll. “He is MINE... He loves ME.” She threw the girl across the room, back cracking as it struck the pillars before this woman of deadly intention stalked closer, pregnant belly only making her seem more fearsome, as if she were a tigress protecting the young that lay within her being.
She loomed over the young girl who cried in sheer agony, before she knelt down and drained the child of her blood, eyes gleaming with white ice as that blood lust drove her to feast more and more, features erasing the few years that had slowly grown to her mind. Yet, this indulgent feast was halted, as a hand batted her away, flinging her to the side and causing her to slide across the marble of the floor. Above her, the elder stood, anger fuming from a lined face of age.

”What do you think you’re doing?” He boomed in a raged authority, the whole room seemed to tremble in fear at this.
“I did it for us, my love.” Adalia whimpered as she crept along the floor to hold the elder’s ankle between quivering hands tainted with the fresh blood of the young girl. “She was tainting your mind with her whispers.” She said, her voice a soft purr. “Come, my love, let me treat you to the love you deserve.” She attempted a smile, but it was slapped from her face, flesh stinging bright red.
“I do not want a pregnant whore in my bed.” His voice was filled with fury as another hand came to meet her cheek. “Be gone from my sight before I end your life.” He hissed with a tone so deadly.

She collected her things and took her leave, moving from the confines of the Coven within the North and departing for her homeland where she had been born, where she would seek work the only way she knew how; yet, upon the eve of her departure, when she was crossing through a wintry town, Adalia doubled over in agony, feeling the contractions push the child from her womb. She was taken in to a brothel by the helpful hands of the girls, and it was there that she gave birth to the little child; when handed the child, Adalia pushed her away, not wanting to look upon the infant that would constantly remind her of a foolish love. And so, upon the next day, without a look back toward the child, Adalia took her leave toward the warmer climates where she would surely meet a man that could teach her precisely how to become a woman that all men desired...

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