^this char was approved before but the profile got lost in that crazy site blackout thingie so uh yeah I rewrote and reworked and yes, it is not finished but i wanted to post this so people have an idea of who ariel is ;)


Name: Ariel Elisabeth Lolita Portecolis

Gender: female

Age: 2435

Apparent Age: 21

Place of Birth: Athens, Greece 427 B.C.

Species: Vampire.

Coven: Amman

Appearance: They said I was blessed by the Gods to receive such golden hair. However, I was not entirely blessed by the Gods- for I have light, honey-brown eyes. In my life I wished they were blue- so I could appear as glorious as the famous Helen of Troy. The stories of her had always fascinated me. She was- so beautiful, comparable with the envious Aphrodite. Of course I cannot compare to the great Goddess of Love but I would like to think I am comely enough. My skin is pale and soft, unblemished and unscarred. I am slender with curves, and my muscles are defined and remain so. In Sparta, women were expected to be just as strong as the men. And so I was. I was just as strong and now- in my age, I am even stronger.
Weight: 110 lbs.
Height: 5’ 3’’
Clothing: Ariel usually is seen in a white bohemian dress or some other kind of free flowing garment. Occasionally she is known to wear jeans and black tank tops. She has a black cowboy hat which she is very fond of and has an affinity for cowboy boots. However, if not wearing those boots she can be seen barefoot if caught off guard. When she goes out, however and intends on socializing- she does indeed wear shoes. Her makeup is sparse and natural. Her long golden hair is usually left down or braided (for feeding).

History:

August 1st, 427 B.C.
I was born during the Peloponnesian War of Athens and Sparta. My mother’s name was Tula and my father’s name was Nicholas Lolita. I never met my father for, shortly after my mother became pregnant, he went off to fight. He never returned. The Peloponnesian War ran our lives and never left our thoughts.

The War was a sort of on and off battle between the two city-states. My mother and I hated it, but we feared that Athens would fall any day now. My father and her husband had already fallen. What had we to live for? Just each other. And we were not sure which side to take. Sparta was such a monster, their armies far surpassing Athens in strength. However, Athens had the greatest navy in the Mesopotamian.

We had both been born in Athens but did that truly make us Athenians? We could come and go as we pleased if we wished; they could not hold us back.

My childhood in Athens was quite simple; I was educated by my mother in the practices of housekeeping, music, and art. I did learn literature with my mother and found that the stories of the God fascinated me the most. I dreamed of being a priestess in Artemis’ temple, for she seemed to be the Goddess that I clung to in my youth. I didn’t really have many close friends as a child. My mother and I were very close. She was- all I needed. Even now I can still picture her face: it shined like the moon, her dark eyes always sparkling with joy. She was so- happy and it made me happy. Even in times of war she was so positive. She’s probably the reason this dreadful gift of Hades has not corrupted me so much. My mother raised me to always think of the silver lining.

During the Peloponnesian War, peacetime ebbed and faded like the waters of Poseidon’s wrathful sea. When peace came, mother would say “Thank Hera child, for she has protected us again. Thank her that we were not invaded here.” I would merely smile and nod, just happy that she was happy. My mother firmly believe in keeping the piece and she strove to made sure that I understood that fighting should only be the last resort.

I aged gracefully, my body beginning to fill out at the age of fourteen- the age of marriage in Athens. I grew to hate peacetime. That was when the men returned home- and started to call on me. Well, really it was more of an arranged marriage deal. There was no such thing as the love of Cupid and Psyche in the customs of Athens. Sure, there was room for love if love did come, but I never witnessed love and I never felt it. Aphrodite must not have liked me very much, but I do believe Artemis did and I swore myself to be her servant forever in the dead of night at the temple.
“Ariel?” My mother asked me in the morning. “You have refused every man I have brought before you- are you planning to give yourself to Artemis?” I wrapped my arms around her soft body and buried my face in her long dark hair and sighed.
“I do not despise the men, but they are not for me….. at least, not these men. I would much rather serve in Artemis’ temple when I get older, but I do not wish to leave you yet- mother….”

She simply smiled in her gentle way and drew her fingers through my wavy blonde hair. “Alright,” she whispered into my hair and we decided that I shouldn’t marry yet, if I ever would. For a long time I never thought I would marry, but when I turned seventeen my life took quite a surprising turn.
The Spartans were at war with us again and my mother and I feared that this battle would be the last, they were advancing so quickly. So, we decided to leave Athens and travel to Sparta to take up residence there. We planned on discreetly taking up residence in Sparta and returning to our home city when it was finally conquered. That way, we would not be made into serfs.

The trip was rough and the boat rocked heavily. I got quite seasick the first night and then got used to it. Oh, I will never forget how much I hated ships. There’s no balance, no stability. How the deck rocks and tips just makes me want to cling to something. I still hate ships.

We arrived in Sparta, quite close to my eighteenth birthday. My mother and I were taken in by a “connection” named Gertrude. I believe she was my father’s distant cousin or something, a widow. She let us live with her in a large house, her kleros, with four other women. She truly was the big woman on campus. Everyone did what Gertrude said. She was just, scary when she was mad. The definition of Gertrude in a nutshell was: bitch. I called Gertrude the Queen Bee and she took to it fondly. She’d call me the Little Bee and I do think that my mother and I were the only women in the house who genuinely liked the loud, pushy woman.

On my eighteenth birthday, my mother and Gertrude threw me a small party- baking treats and such for me that were usually not smiled upon. In Sparta, women were expected to be strong, athletic, and unfeeling. Our greatest task was bearing children, boys especially because they went into the army. Our bodies were temples for warriors and we had to keep them as healthy as possible. Personally, I took up archery and became just as good as the men. I sometimes practiced down by the barracks. I think I should mention here that we (the Spartan women) did practice and exercise in the nude just like the men. In fact, the barracks were where I met my husband, Gabriel Portecolis. He took an interest in me, only able to look at me from a distance. He had to focus and couldn’t possibly stare at me or talk to me. The army was a serious affair. There was no room for mistakes; in practice or in battle.

However, when he was given leave, he went straight to Gertrude’s house and asked my mother if he could marry me. She, in turn, asked me and I said yes. Why did I say yes? I’m not sure. Sparta was so different from Athens and though I still loved my dearest Artemis, I wanted to bear the bravest, strongest warrior of them all. And besides, Gabriel was a good man and a good-looking man. Maybe I was attracted to his strength. In Athens, all the men who had asked for me were scholars. I suppose I do like strength, power, and maybe a little brutality. But that was what Spartan women were expected to want and were expected to be.

But this marriage was not to a stranger. I had seen Gabriel often in the fields and in the waters where I swam. We had talked a few times and I believe I did flirt with him. How could I not? He was handsome and I was single. Why shouldn’t I?

Our marriage ceremony was typical of Spartan culture; we “eloped.” I dressed as a man and put on a cap before waiting in the street.
Gabriel came fast, the hooves of his chariot easily heard by my nervous ears. His arms grabbed mine and I was lifted into the moving chariot with ease. I laughed and clung to my captor, to see my beloved husband’s face. We stole away into the countryside before we had stopped. We didn’t need a blanket in the night. It was warm enough and he tossed me down roughly in the grass before his lips met mine hungrily.

Gabriel had to live in the barracks until he reached the age of thirty-one and could form a kleros together. But he came to visit me frequently, our visits usually resulting with us having a good romp in my room. I don’t know if I did love Gabriel, but looking back fondly at him now- I do believe that I cared for him very much. But love, I think love is a strong word and not to be used lightly.

My mother approved much of us and believed that our children would be strong. It was amazing how easily my mother and I had fallen into Spartan culture, embraced it happily and clung to the tradition that were secretly not ours at all. I believe the happiest moment of my life was when I found that my menstrual cycle had stopped. I was pregnant. I remember the day so well. I had rushed into my mother’s room screaming, ‘I’m pregnant! I have to be!” She, in turn, hugged me tightly and soon all the women in the house were congratulating me. I couldn’t wait to tell Gabriel so I ran down to the barracks of the Army where he lived and waited for his drills to stop for the day. As he was leaving to come home with me I ran into his arms and kissed him.
“We’re going to have a baby!” I told him, excitement barely contained. Gabriel laughed at me and lifted me, swinging me around before kissing me again and telling me,
“Good work Ariel- we’ve both done good work…. Oh, Thank Zeus for this child. Mmm…” he gripped me in a bear hug and I laughed. We had made a child, a strong, soon-to-be-healthy-child. Life was perfect.

Maybe that thought had jinxed me? Perhaps it had.

That week my mother grew ill, her face swelling with pustules that popped and scarred her beautiful face. None of us know what the ailment had been, but Gertrude was the one who tended her. Gertrude was a widow after all and she had no children to take care of; they had already grown and moved out. The Queen Bee would not let me see my mother for fear that I would catch it and my son, for I could feel that he was a boy, would die.

But I could also feel that my mother was dying. My mother, the woman whom I loved above all else in this world, was leaving me. I had to see her! The stress killed me, made me tense and nervous all the time. By now I was on bed-rest and Gabriel came to see me more often.
“You must relax Ariel-“ he would tell me. “This isn’t good for our son.” And it wasn’t good for our son. I delivered too early and he died minutes after he was born. Weak and depressed, I ran to my mother’s bedside and wept as she said goodbye. I could not take it. I had lost everything I loved, my child and my mother in one night. I screamed and ran out of the house. No one followed me. They knew I was too distressed. I was mad.

I found myself down by the lake, stripping off my clothing and diving in. I planned on killing myself, following my mother to a watery grave and Hades’ arms. I dove under the cool waves and felt hands on my nude shoulders. I turned; half-hoping I’d see Poseidon but no. I did see Hades that night. His smile was dark, as well as his eyes and hair. His fingers ran over my floating body and he pulled me close to him. I realized that he was nude too and suddenly became very aware of my situation. I knew I was a desirable woman, but I had never been touched like this before by anyone but Gabriel. He murmured something and I only caught “Trying to drown yourself are you? Well, I can do better than that- you’re such a pretty little thing-“

He pulled me against him and I squirmed, not willing to let him take me- for I thought he would rape me. I pushed and punched; bit and kicked at him. However, he still managed to wrap his fingers into my blonde hair and arch my neck back painfully. It was then, that I died.

I went unconscious when he turned me and when I awoke; we were already traveling away from Sparta- my own body resting in the chariot he drove. Eventually I learned that his name was Rupert and we were going away. We left Athens and the Peloponnesian War behind. We left everything behind. I’m sure they thought I died back in Sparta and I prayed to Aphrodite that Gabriel would find another woman to marry since I was now gone.

I had died. Life was over and the afterlife began.

Rupert was an idiot, stupid as hell and I couldn’t stand him.