So I must blog...

   Gothica: He was a boy, dressed all in black, so pale he made the moonlight dull. His lips so red they looked like blood. Hair as white as snow, and eyes like mood rings for the prize he most desired... A pure soul to love him with the same power that he hated with...
   Kisstina: She had never known anything but the cold gray gloom of Muleberry and she yearned for adventure, which the mysterious stranger with the dazzling color-change eyes could give her... Red hair like fire, green eyes like emerald leaves of magic story-book trees and small frail limbs just begging to soar away on the wings of her heart. Enchanted by the boy who spoke of escape, adventure, power...love, she was blinded by what she truly loved and she forgot what she really desired.
   Saphrax: Tragic death. The words had never really meant anything to him before, when he lived for his music and spent days writing songs. But I guess you never know the pain of death until you experience it for yourself. Cold black eyes, to match that of his heart, and a clinging loneliness that stays closer to his freakish body than his own shadow. He accepted the fact that even amongst the freaks, he was unaccepted and alone, that he had always been alone and would always be alone. But all hope of a sorrowful solitary withdrawn existence, alone with his self pity to wallow without interruptions, vanished the second he looked into her eyes. From that point on, Saphrax knew his only chance at feeling alive again, rested in the palms of a little girl. Kisstina.
   To be named: Hair dyed red as rubies, eyes so green that rested but did not remember, and a cursed remembrance that he could never control and a life that forced him to kill. He was not the type to hurt a fly, let alone kill his parents. But every time the light grew faint and all around his world grew black, another life was on his back. How could he do these things? Though it was plain to see he had. All evidence pointed him dead in the face, but his memory told him the same thing his heart did; that he could never. But forced to be alone, by not only his mental state but by himself, he sat alone and guarded at the side lines of everything, watching the world change around him while he stayed the same, the same ruthless killer that he knew he was at heart, though he wished against everything that he wasn't. But no one ever told him life would be fair. No one ever told their parents that not telling their son this would cause them their lives. How terrible, those last few seconds of their life, to know the thing you gave life to, was taking your own. But as he sat he saw with glazed eyes, a girl that he wanted to love, but could never risk killing...
   Bree: Metal face. Freak. Weirdo. Strange. Some of the names that people whispered but she chose to ignore. She knew who her real friend was, and she was all she'd ever need. Bree didn't need a boyfriend to feel good about herself. She didn't need thousands of friends to have a good day. Just the sun coming up in the morning brought a smile to her face and put a spring in her step. But every day, when things were quiet, and Bree put down her book, a nagging at her sub conscious told her something was missing... Something big and something she needed. Or perhaps, it needed her. But every day ignoring the grudge she'd pull on her knee socks and color her hair and slap on a tutu and a band shirt and trudge on in her usual combat boots or converse. Her hair matched her clothes and nails if she could help it. makeup, check, thick and exotic as always. Hair, check, just as crazily colored and coon tailed as usual. Clothes, check, just as matching lacy and stripped as any other day. Her facial piercings sometimes jingled when she walked, and she loved the sound they made, and how her ear rings weighed down her ears. She did not dress the way she did for attention, she sat before she got dressed and thought; if she could shake her head until the feelings she felt then fell out of her ear, what color would it be? Teal? Red? Purple? But all the while, that voice kept reminding her, something somewhere out there in the world needed her just as much as she needed it. And she felt she might just find out soon, as the new guy stepped into her world, and in the place of her mind which would have usually laughed at the thought of romance, butterflies and hopes of approach tickled her... But this new guy looked like he had no intentions of getting close to anyone.
   Hellenna: Secrets. Secrets. Secrets. No one could ever know. But who would she tell? The one person she knew, the secret herself? She'd hate her for sure. Hellenna loved with a passion, something she could never hold. Though she had tried, she had failed. Bree never showed any interest in anything flowery and she never talked about...love, until that boy came. Why could he woo her without a single glance, and the years of constant love she had shown and favors she had done and presents she had given, hadn't done a thing. What did he have that Hellenna didn't? Oh yeah, a penis. How it hurt her heart that this boy who showed not a single sign of notice sweep her off her feet when Hellenna had tried everything, and still sat alone and loveless? She knew whilst she saw them across the room talking, a blush in her beloved's cheeks, that she would get revenge, she would win Bree, and she would do so before this boy did.
   Shadow: Not much can be said for the being called shadow... She comes and she goes as she pleases... The fog worships the ground that she walks on, kissing wherever she's stepped. Grave yards serve as her play grounds and she sings songs in the language of the wind... She's a cold one, sleeping in the night time snow and flying with the mist of the rain after a funeral, she laughs at the tears that fall from mourners faces. But at the same time, she weeps... She had lost something long ago... If you're ever fortunate -or unfortunate- enough to speak with her, you might ask her to tell you the tale... She is actually quite a story teller, when you aren't hearing the epic fable from between her teeth... She sways with the cries of the dead and sleeps to the chimes of the church bells, she's everything a child fears and all the things that haunt a grown man. I was her friend for a night... A chill night when the woods were particularly loathsome and a symphony of wolf cries harmonized in the crisp of the windy air. She showed me all the best places to hide, and she sang songs to me that chilled my bones. We ate enchanted goblin fruit and danced with the death fairies who all looked upon her with envy- and she knew it. She doesn't like to look people in the eye... Thats where she keeps all her secrets.