I

I
Black Soul
Soulless

Gender/Sex: Female

Age: Approximately 22, if only in appearance

Meister: Autonomous; Andy O'Connor

Weapon Form:

Bladed Weaponry; can reach anything from a shiv to a zweihander, but almost exclusively straight-bladed weapons. If there's a straight blade to it, she can turn into it. Whether it be a shiv, dagger, short or longsword or claymore, and anything both in between or beyond, she can handle it. Built from the black blood of her body and soul, the process can be tiring, shifting in battle from one to the next, but she can get it done. Her training over the passed ten or so years has forced this on her, and she would not have known of her capabilities had it not. Due to this lab-rat forced action, she's largely developed herself into autonomy, though she lacks a lot of driving power behind it. For the most part, her soul is nearly impossible to pair with --- and somewhat intentionally so. From the experimentations preformed on her, she can shift her wavelength just enough to deny proper synchronizing, and can separate her soul wholly from her body, should all else fail.

Love Interest/Orientation (Sexual/Romantic): Apparently Aro/Ace; Assumed Hetero; None

Appearance: Naturally pale from birth, the circumstances that have led I to her current state have made it even difficult for her skin to darken; it is possible, but unlikely. All in all, she tends to look like her skin is transparent, largely due to the darkness of her blood. The infection spread to her hair and eyes as well, and what were once reddish-brow and yellow-gold, sometimes yellow, are now completely devoid of color, as black as pitch or night itself. The veins of her body, even, or perhaps most especially, in her eyes are black, a haunting sequence that can only be made less obvious if she allows the black to wholly consume her eyes, though she is likened to a demon when she does so.


Aside from these abnormalities, she's tall and fit, with long, slender limbs. I has a lithe, muscled build, but while her waist is comparatively small, either end of her obviously hourglass figure are nothing extraordinary or beyond average, actually seeming slimmer than normal as well. Her nails all appear black, as if expertly and perfectly painted, and her hair permanently appears to be wet. It reaches about halfway down her neck, even all around. She stands at 5'7.5", and could literally recite every measurement of her body from the length of her hair to the circumference of her wrist and beyond.
Her attire is arguable, as she has spent the majority of the passed ten years either training, and thus primarily covered in bandages, or in a liquid stasis tank, completely nude. Her body does not offend her, and she is far from shy to reveal it, given any reason to do so. When clothed, ideally, are black and skin-tight, a fixation she developed over the passed decade. Anything not clinging to her makes her more uncomfortable, as loose clothing is a poor choice for combat. In addition, this clothing is usually at least water resistant and/or fire proof, for reasons undisclosed. Other than this, and strangely, she is also known to wrap her hands and wrists in bandages, as well as really any part of her body, with no apparent or given reason. It is of note, also, that boots are to be expected; any sort of high heel, however, is most assuredly not.

Spoiler:

Personality: INTJ; The Scientist


History: Despite the strange pairing her parents are --- witch meister and weapon --- One's original life was fairly normal. Her father's temper is short, her mother's nature caring, but the couple balanced out well. He was strict on her, especially with school, but aside from the occasional spat over a less-than-A, she was always happy and lively, energetic and a typical child. At seven, her younger brother was born, whom she absolutely adored.
Of course, as one would expect, this happy little life could and would not last; about five years later, just before her little brother would have started school, One, or who she was, was at summer junior cheerleading practice when the school was attacked. Assumed to be kishin eggs, all of which were killed in the subsequent rebuttal, the One that was, as well as a handful of other students, an assistant instructor, and various teachers that had been on the grounds, all lost their lives. There was nothing that could be done for her --- she was pronounced dead on the table before they even made it to the hospital. Her funeral was held a week later.
What her parents didn't know was that the body they buried was not their daughter. No, she was taken from the hospital by a mysterious agency when their leader discovered her bloodline, and a curious, twisted interest in her had developed. She was taken to a facility that initially held nothing but the bare minimum --- and a fully equipped, state-of-the art blood transfusion chamber. They got her heart pumping as soon as the doctors had left her, sustaining the pulse via artificial means until they had her where they needed.  Pint by pint, they replaced her dying blood with an enhanced strain of black blood, mixed with the original as well as some from weapon donors. Even once it was all replaced, a process that corrupted the keratin that composed her hair and nails, rendering them permanently black from then on. She was moved into a stasis chamber after this transfusion, her blood meticulously monitored and examined weekly until they were finally confident that she would survive being off the life supports. Alive but not, her soul barely clinging to her form, they slowly eased it from her, injecting it bit by bit with an advanced, soul-targeted equivalent of black blood. The process was agonizing, the only thing getting any rise out of her, forcing her heart to race madly, body to thrash until the soul was separated completely. When the full injection was completed, the soul had increased about 15% in size, and was so heavy that it dropped like a canon ball, looking almost exactly like one. It did not liquidize, going from solid to plasma as it absorbed back into her body. Her eyes opened instantly, the veins within them darkened to black, as well as her irises.
As time went on, she began to master the process herself, but she remembered nothing of who she was. Old habits and interests died away, replaced by a steely cold resolve and meticulous nature. She learned as she always did, almost instantly and expertly, eyes wide and inquisitive, taking in everything. She learned through experience, not touching a text, not allowed to see anything, recognizing one, solitary character --- I, the Roman numeral One. As it was all most anyone would call her, the most common term, other than "her," "it," "soulless," or "black soul." Any newcomer that saw her began spouting nonsense about demons, and it both did and didn't help when she mastered the art of turning the entirety of her eyes black.

Spoiler:

Miscellaneous:

• She doesn't so much bleed as she does ooze, and her injuries can look anywhere from inky, greasy, to like she's been splattered with tar for, of course, the limited time that it takes for her to actually heal.
  
• When she is moving from a normal form to separating her soul, her body turns into a black silhouette, not quite solid, liquid, or plasmac. It's remarkably similar to one of Inker's constructs, but not quite the same and still distinguishable.
  
• Her ability to separate herself from her soul wreaks havoc with her system, debilitating her soul abilities.
  
• It is difficult, but possible, for her to shift from one form to the next. However, if she has seen a bladed weapon once, she can transform into it, though it will always be a straight blade.
  
• Her soul is unable to distinguish between corrupted/KE souls and innocent ones, and thus treats them the same; she is neither Demon nor Dark Weapon, merely some limbo in-between.
  
• Many of her abilities are remarkably similar to those of Crona, but she has far more than him.
  

Have You Read the Rules?
"I need not your petty laws."