Information

Flourence
Legacy Name: Flourence

The

Graveyard Escalade
Owner: Fram

Age: 17 years, 3 months, 1 week

Born: December 12th, 2008

Adopted: 17 years, 3 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)

Adopted: December 12th, 2008 (Legacy)

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

The only thing that shed light into the small room was the opened door. But even with the weak light you could see that this room belonged to someone mad. The walls were lined with, what looked like, old medieval torture devises. Between the glistering instruments was an odd figure, lying on the floor, his body curled up like an embryo.

He was thin- as if he's sick with dystrophy. The back and hands were covered in scars. He had long dirty black hair. He wore nothing.

After a couple of minutes, the figure started talking, obviously to himself. It was hard to call the bundle of words that he emitted 'sentences', but some distinct phrases were understandable.

"..Sick of the wars... Were is (here he said some name that was hard to separate from his moaning)...?"

After a few more minutes of lying on the floor, he stood up and stumbled to an old drawer in the corner of the room. He pulled one of the shelves, causing the rusty handle to break and the old wood to crack. He rummaged around for awhile and took a couple of wide strips of leather.

The next half hour he kept himself busy by wrapping the strips around his weak ribs and squeezing them as tight as his shaking hands could. The room filled with moaning and unpleasant cracking sounds.

After this stopped entertaining him, he took the tweezers and started to peel off the bloody leather strips and the droopy pale skin. This procedure occupied him a bit longer- one and a half hour.

Then he decided it was time to move on to something more interesting. One by one, he played with those torture devices near the walls- crushing, stabbing and stretching. The persecution frenzy continued throughout the day.

At the end, when the half-alive bloody bag of crushed bones got a little bit tired, he pulled out a powdery white dose.

12:47 p.m.- He's asleep.

7:05 a.m.- The being woke up numb, unable to move because of yesterdays pain. He was cold and soaked in the bloody puddle he slept in. He lay there, paralyzed 'till noon.

The knock on the metal door made him gather his last strength together and look up. He had some hope it was her.

The door opened, temporarily blinding the dark creature. A figure of a uniformed woman entered the room. As soon as she noticed the being, she ran to him and grabbed his trembling hands. He knew she would return- she always does. Flourence looked at her. He had the brightest blue eyes.

(We are one soul. Our hearts beat at one pace.
Our fortune's the double helix. We're two sides to one face.
I'm the one to adore you forever, and granted from above,
You're Flourence- the savior of the one you love.)

"A loved one laid his head in her lap, red roses fell to the floor, and the world stood still."

Under DEEP construction.

Name: Flourence, aka Flo.
Age: Immortal, how old he looks depends on his mood.
Orientation: Straight.
Appearance (normal): Pale and sickly thin.
Likes: His creator, his devices, black leather pants, marking chakras on his skin with a black marker, his religion.
Dislikes: EBP (evil brainwashing program), being left alone, his lovers boss in a bad mood, Newton, numbness, being angered.