MERCY ASTOR, n/f

[feedy]

MERCY ASTOR
{one foot in my grave—i was fit to be tied, but
took a look at my life. why am i so afraid?}

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Thunder in the distance

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{We counted how far away}[/font][/center][/color]
full name Mercy Astor.
nicknames None.
age Fifteen, December fourth.
gender Female.
sexuality Pansexual.
occupation Freshman.

I realized what I wanted to say

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{come what may, I’ll be there for you}[/font][/center][/color]
Physical Appearance

Due to her genes inherited by her father, Mercy typically stands at a five feet, eight inches.

Personality

Strengths

CAPS,

Flaws

CAPS,

Drink?

Smoke?

Drive?

Drugs?

Partying?

Family

CAPS,

Residence

CAPS,

History

CAPS,

No big surprise

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{I might be gone soon}[/font][/center][/color]
What makes your character (or interpretation of the character) unique, original, and worth having on the site?

Role Play Sample

She didn't see it when it happened. Suddenly, Mercy had felt the need to yawn—which wasn't much of a surprise, considering how late it was—and, in turn, closed her eyes. However, she could hear the squeaking of the subway as it came to a stop and the bustling of the people around her, glad that they didn't have to wait for any longer. For a just a moment, it was almost peaceful. Almost, almost, almost. In retrospect, perhaps she should have savored the feeling a bit more. Then again, that wouldn't have changed much of anything, would it? As much as Mercy wished they could, little moments like those never did anything to help you afterwards.

Smiling, Mercy opened her eyes—and that's when the screaming started. It was so shrill and so loud and sounded so, so terrified, Mercy had to actually plug her ears with her hands. She kept her eyes open, though; searching for the source of the horrendous noise. It was the young woman she had taken a picture of. Unconsciously, her hands moved away from her ears and to her mouth, in order to keep a scream of her own to herself. Mercy watched as the woman had her shoulder chewed through, as the thing that was attacking her bit through the flesh and muscle, the clavicle and—

There was a man, her boyfriend, running towards her, the woman. He was screaming and yelling, reaching toward that girl who was dying—already dead, maybe—in hopes that he'd reach her. And then he was tackled down by another one of "them".

Her hands dropped from her mouth and she openly gaped. Not just because of the scene that had just played in front of her, but because of the fact that there were more of "them". She wanted to do something, to save someone. She wanted to somehow be able to brandish a couple hundred guns to kill "them", if she could. However, what she wanted more than anything at that exact moment was: to remain alive. By then, Mercy could tell that, that was her top priority. Saving others, finding weapons—who the hell was she kidding, exactly? In reality, she didn't want to get involve with any of this; she didn't want to die.

—but that couple, the one she had taken a picture of, didn't want to die either, right? Mercy was still alive though, wasn't she? That had to mean something, surely. It couldn't just be unintentional luck! If she hadn't died in the first few minutes, then she could definitely survive the next few, right? It was horrible, terribly motivation, but it was the best to come up with. This sort of rationale...if that was the best she could get, then fine. With shaky legs, Mercy stood up straighter; she was done watching, it was time to run. So, Mercy entered a slow jog, her eyes flickering towards the subway. From what she could see, some people were heading toward the actual subways themselves and for a moment, Mercy contemplated following them. It would be safe, right? But, even if it was safe, there couldn't possibly be someone who knew to drive the vehicle. At the moment, Mercy doubted that such a convenient miracle would fall upon any of them. If anything, the subway could work as a temporary shelter, but she wouldn't be going anywhere.

Then, her eyes landed on the exit. It was getting crowded and fast—there was no way someone could get through there. And then, Mercy took off towards the exit in a full run, just to prove that she could. In her way was a single one of "them" feasting upon an elderly woman. She almost wanted to skid to a stop, because of how pertifiying the display was, but she didn't. Instead, Mercy's heart pounded and she speedily went around it. For a moment, she contemplated jumping over it, but Mercy was certain that such an action couldn't possibly go well. There were more of them up a head, Mercy noticed, alarmed. Just the thought of actually having to go by "them" frightened her. There were plenty of things Mercy was capable of, it was just that she didn't know if this was one of them.

Don't have much of a choice though, huh? she sardonically thought to herself, grimacing. Mercy could do this—and it wasn't just plain arrogance, it was a fact. Racing forward, Mercy passed by "them", her shoulder touching just barely "their" cold, dead flesh. She didn't stop running, though. No, no. Stopping wasn't even an option and it probably never would be from then on. Once she made it to the exit, Mercy realized just how crowded it had gotten, but she couldn't let herself get discouraged. It was just that she needed to figure out how, first. There was...there was a trick she remembered looking up on the internet, but—but holy fuck, she could barely even think straight. Quickly, Mercy looked over her shoulder, they were coming so, so quickly and they were multiplying just as fast. The rate of her heart quickened and her desperation increased by ten fold. After all that, was she really going to die?

No, no, no. Just the thought of dying right then made her so frustrated and scared, but most of all enraged. Didn't everyone have the right to live? Why did they have to fight for it? The unfairness, the injustice, the—just—everything! Without thinking, Mercy clawed through the crowd, letting out a furious howl and she punched and kicked whoever was in her way. There was something animalistic and cruel in her actions, but desperate and terrified. The frustration was getting to her and Mercy was about to continue tearing through the people—the obstacles—in her way, before she realized something: she had made it though.

It wasn't the time for celebration, though. She had to keep running. Mercy turned around, to see if "they" had gotten through. Instead, though, she saw an arm, blindly reaching forward. It was long and weak-looking, like it belonged to some scrawny teenager. Fleetingly, she contemplated just leaving it be, but after all the clawing and punching, Mercy could feel her conscience weigh down on her. With only a moment's hesitation, Mercy reached and pulled on the hand. Out came a teenage girl who was younger than herself, but a bit older than Colette. For a moment, Mercy froze and let her hand smooth the girl's hair back; not to comfort the girl, but herself. Leaning forward a bit, Mercy whispered one word:

"Run."

And then she took off herself, running towards anywhere that was away from this forsaken hell.

Password *****

But please believe

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{I hold you up to the highest degree}[/font][/center][/color]