Rings of Honor

- A FreeForm Roleplaying Community  

Junior Adventurer

Username:

Alara Mason

Groups:

Registered users

Character:

Alara Mason

Character Race:

shapeshifter

Gender:

female

Location:

RhyDin

Character Portrait:

Character Age:

23

Place of Origin:

New York

Profession:

actress and concert pianist

Appearance:

Alara Mason. The name fit the present skin as well as any other. The name, like the identity and the look were as transient as a dream and just as difficult to remember for the Shapeshifter. Today she was Alara Mason and tomorrow she could be your anything—your friend, your ally, your enemy, your shoulder to cry on, or your ear to listen.

Perhaps she could even be your fantasy if the money was right. But this woman was no hooker with a heart of fool’s gold. She’d spun round poles, turning straw into gold and lifted just as many wallets as she had the spirits with just a bit of pixie dust for those that needed to find their second star to the right in Neverland. This long legged Tink had all she needed to ring your bells straight on till morning.

For the artists, she’d play your Green Fairy and leave the taste of burnt sugar and absinthe lingering on your tongue long after you’d slipped into a Degas dream with a Van Gogh Glow from the citrine gleam in those golden eyes. When she wasn’t at the club, she kept the “Mystique” going at various comic cons and cosplays. If you’re a High Roller, she could be your Babydoll from Sucker Punch, your Muse turned Band Aid to inspire your music as Penny Lane. It’s all Happening, but please keep your seats and tray tables in their fully locked and upright position for this particular flight of fancy.

She’d even be your Goldie or Nancy for a night in Sin City. She’d lasso you back with a swing of a rope, or a roll of her hips to take you back to the “Old days, the Bad days, the All or Nothin’ Days” of Noir and Dames to kill for. Push her boundaries and she’ll say Good Night and put the fun in your funeral courtesy of Harley Quinn’s baseball bat.

She’d been forced to transform her gift into a curse as one dream got extinguished to the next and she shifted into something entirely new. Yet no gift was ever free and always came with a price. The trauma of some experiences and shifts left gaps in her memory, a genetic need to continually adapt, survive, forget and metamorphosize into something different.

Something useful.

But change wasn’t all bad. She’d found a new home and a new start on an actual stage. This was one she chose for herself as well as a fresh start at the Shanachie Theater. Alara felt like she was finally moving in the right direction free from pain and confusion. Oblivious to a past which stalked her like her own shadow, for no matter how she many times she changed, she was still the same to some—if the cursed music box that haunted her dreams could just stop playing as a reminder.

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