Callisto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
psychobarbie) wrote2011-01-20 03:22 pm
psychobarbie) wrote2011-01-20 03:22 pm
Entry tags:
❝OOC❞ Application [AMATOMNES]
» Journal:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
stimulant» Birthdate/Age: Feb. 16, 1988/22
» Characters Played: Kaname Chidori (Full Metal Panic!), Orihime Inoue (Bleach), and Squall Leonhart (Final Fantasy VIII)
» Name: Callisto
» Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess
» Reference: http://hercxena.wikia.com/wiki/Callisto
» Canon Point: 2.14 "A Necessary Evil", before becoming a god
» Gender: Female/Female
» Age: Unknown exactly. (Here's my math-reasoning: Xena's son, Solan, was 10 by the time we meet him in the series. Xena had given birth to him during the Battle of Cornith, where she had already been a warlord for about 10 years. She first decided to go out and seek revenge after the attack on her village when she was in her late teens, early twenties, which puts Xena in her 40s during the show itself. Xena had those ten years or so running around being evil and whatnot, during which one time she destroyed Callisto's village when Callisto is still a young girl (and before meeting Solan's father). She was old enough to remember when Xena attacked, so I could put her around 4-8. If she was 4-8 at some point within those 10 years...she can be anywhere from 16-30 :|a Based on her physical appearance, I'm going with early twenties.)
» Orientation: Not interested, really. All of Callisto's focus is more on violence, pain (hers and others), and revenge, which leaves little room for sexual fantasies. She does, however, sleep with Ares in the series (albeit in Xena's body), which could possibly incline her towards men, though the idea seemed to be more part of Ares' plan than Callisto's desires. Then again, X:WP is known for plenty of his lesbian undertones, and Callisto is obsessed with Xena to the point of insanity. I would lean to say she's open-minded in the area of sex, simply because she has no problems being over-the-top in other areas of her life and tends to take things to the extremes. In general, however, it isn't something she bothers with.
» Personality: To Callisto, everything is some sort of battle. She wages war on the world, on her enemies, and in the end, on herself. It's her self-fulfilling prophecies that keep her, as many say, locked in her own hatred. Her desires in life are plain and simple: to cause pain and suffering to the one person who destroyed her soul and left her to, in her mind, the only path her life could have taken: Xena. Callisto sees the world in simple black and white; there is only good or bad, nothing in between, and to Callisto, the world is inherently bad.
In one sense, this black and white view of the world is, in itself, rather childish. One may argue that despite the fact that she is very much an adult, capable of unspeakable cruelty and acts that take a mind much older, a part of her has never grown up. Callisto was young when her family was slaughtered, and it was there that the development of her moral compass stopped. To her, her family was the embodiment of love, goodness, and faith in the world around her. When that died, so did any of her compassion. Xena was bad and had done wrong to her, therefore she must do wrong to Xena; clearly that was the only solution. And it was that reasoning from then on that drove her forward to become the warrior she became.
On the other hand, one could say she was forced to grow up quickly. Callisto is, indeed, a very resourceful woman who has no problem fending for herself. What help she actually seeks often is some sort of ploy to turn things back around on the one that helped her, or from a necessity to further herself, even if it means putting up with some troublesome company for a while.
It's easy to write Callisto off as callous and uncaring. She says herself that she "never feels anything" anymore, occasionally bits and pieces of emotions, but nothing concrete and full. It is clear that she does enjoy seeing others in pain, especially Xena and Gabrielle, but really has no trouble destroying the same types of villages that she grew up in. Women and children, old and young alike, they are all fair game in her quest for satisfaction.
But this is, perhaps, too simple. It is hate itself that drives her forward, the pain and agony she's felt since childhood--and that is a very real emotion. What she does not feel is guilt and empathy for the pain of others, maybe because she is so completely obsessed with her own pain. Callisto shows this usually by laughing at the expense of others, delighting and clapping gaily when people fight and argue, and killing off important family members or loved ones just to see who breaks first. She is an extremely cruel individual with little to no inhibitions. However, she does nearly cry when Xena confesses her crimes against Cirra, Callisto's village, in "A Necessary Evil", being almost shell-shocked and for once not the confident sociopath that she usually embodies.
Her body language is uncouth of a woman, her hair is usually a mess, and she is smiling more often than not, which can put many people at unease. Despite the fact that her character focus is on heartbreak, a loss of connection with humanity, and hatred, she appears to be rather jovial in a macabre sort of fashion. If anything, she is easily excited by the prospect of making anyone else feel what she has had to go through. She seeks, overall, to put an end to her pain, and to her this can only be fulfilled by making Xena suffer the same.
She fears neither death nor mortals nor gods; in fact, she has no problems using any of them. Callisto is extremely manipulative with little regard to protocol or customs. If she wants to do it, it's what she is going to do. This, fortunately or not, ultimately leads to her death. While she cries for Xena to save her, in the end, Callisto decides that death can be a welcome reprieve from the misery of life.
However, she finds herself simply in another realm of torture. This, too, she blames on Xena for letting her die. Even in death, in rebirth, and in becoming an immortal, Callisto continuously holds no responsibility for her own actions, instead reasoning that because Xena made Callisto who she has become, then all the fault lies with Xena. Every soul she has sent to the Underworld, every drop of blood does not sit on her conscious. While her soul is twisted in itself, she delights in thinking she can somehow up Xena's cosmic debt.
In all, Callisto is an extremely dangerous woman and best avoided. Once she sinks her teeth into you, she refuses to let go until your body becomes as soulless as her own.
» Appearance: Callisto stands at about 5'6~5'8" (based on her actress) with a thin, but strong build. She's fairly tanned with brown eyes and light blonde hair that is rarely ever taken care of--Callisto seems to never brush it, instead keeping her appearance wild and uncouth. Her outfit is of leather armor and chain mail, exposing most of her legs, cleavage, and midriff. She seems to neither be embarrassed about her appearance or entirely caring about it at the same time. Leather studded arm-straps and boots keep her better protected, with a sword at her left hip. At her current canon point, she also has a large burn scar that runs across her face from before she became immortal.
» Suitability: N/A assuming she is in her early to mid-twenties. Regardless, though, Callisto isn't a virgin in the first place and causes situations more painful and chaotic than the environment of Atia. She giggles in prison--coping isn't really an issue.
» "amatomnes" Entry: [ The feed clicks on with a crash. Static at first, landing upside down as the image adjusts. It's on the floor of one of the palace rooms, what appears to have once been a rather nice chair sitting off the screen.
One drawer from a dresser flies overhead, the sound of broken wood and a piece landing nearby sending the device off kilter for a moment. It readjusts. ]
Peace? Is this your idea of peace? [ A woman comes on screen, hair a mess. She's completely nude and carrying a battle-worn sword in one clenched fist. ] The Elysian Fields? How sweet. How utterly sweet, but I don't need or want your pity.
[ She appears to be shouting at the ceiling, circling a broken desk like a lioness on the hunt. ]
You know, I once thought that death would be a welcome reprieve, but it seems that you Gods simply cannot let a soul spend eternity without being bothered. [ She giggles to herself then, though it's not apparent what exactly is so amusing. ]
So, who's idea was it? [ She tilts her head to the side, biting her lip like she is trying to hide some sort of secret joke. ] Ares? Oh no, this is too nice for you. Did I ruin your happy little date with Xena? Pity--if I'd had my way, there wouldn't have been anything left to take back.
[ She whirls wildly about. ] Hera, is that you? I delivered your little pest of a son as you wished. I fulfilled my half of the bargain!
[ She hisses then, stamping her foot like an impatient child. Her smile turns to a grimace in a split second. She pulls at her hair. ]
Answer me!! [ And screams in frustration. ]
» "amatomneslogs" Entry: She felt like she was going to be sick.
She remembered falling asleep, cuddling her sword like a body pillow, not heeding the imperfect but still sharpened blade's threat. It was a wonder, sleeping so openly under a moon and starry sky that she had all but assumed she would never see again. Even if she were one to worry about her own safety, having the badge of immortality would have stopped any and all attempts on her life by any self-righteous warriors or heartbroken widows that she had for her current company.
It was some twisted sense of honor or compassion that kept both a blunted staff and chakram from her neck, she was sure, but neither woman would go back on their promise to her. Xena and Gabrielle really made one wonderfully righteous and inherently gullible team.
Yes, that was her final lucid thought before allowing a few hours of sleep take her. For novelty's sake, of course, because the need for sleep had long since evaded her.
Hands were on her. Hands weren't supposed to be on her. It was a touch she felt was familiar but she could not recognize. Their grip was not hard, calloused, or digging, begging her to cry for help that she knew would never come even if she wanted it to. They were gentle, coaxing her to feel something she had ripped from her soul so many years before. They were sliding under her armor, soft lips trailing the line of her cleavage.
Well, she had never been molested in her sleep. There was a first time for everything, she supposed. Usually the blood stained under her fingernails and dirt caked on the soles of her boots were a major turn off for most men who somehow found it in themselves to approach her.
She tried to open her eyes, but they stayed shut, like she was lost in some delirium of warm darkness. Heat was spreading up her spine despite herself. She pulled back, those same hands traveling places that had been touched before, but that she greatly preferred were left alone. She would break those fingers; she would tear the ligaments and force her attacker to eat them before giving he or she a special moment with her sword.
Lips were on her own, her leather skirt was riding up. She kicked--nothing happened. She tore her mouth away and bit at the ear, pulling the hair, threatening to rip both clean off. But it didn't stop them--no, they made things worse. They moaned.
She screamed.
She screamed like a banshee crying for the kill.
Callisto's eyes flew open. Instinct had her grope for her sword as she jumped from a tanglement of sheets around her naked form, crouching on the soft mattress and pile of pillows like a cave woman. Her hands found nothing but satin.
Her head snapped back and forth--an animal cornered--as sharp brown eyes scanned the room, ignoring the ache between her thighs that should not have been there in the first place. It was...kingly. An estate fit for someone with more money to waste than the poor had lice. High ceilings and ornately carved chairs--a full length mirror sat in the corner next to a large door, while light blue curtains waved merrily in the window as the day's sea breeze fluttered in, uncaring to Callisto's obvious distress.
She cocked her head to the side, twitching like an angry bird. Her sword, where was her sword? Despite the shock, she just found herself laughing.
"...Funny. Yes, you're very funny." She slid carefully from the bed, still crouching, keeping her gaze wildly about her. She half-expected Ares to come in a bolt of lightening and having himself a good chuckle at her expense. She had, after all, let him down terribly. It was his fault for being fooled.
Gods were wonderfully imperfect.
"Are you having a good laugh?" she called to the ceiling, finding her sword in its sheath laying next to a bedside table. She quickly pulled it free, pointing the freshly shined blade in every direction. All that moved were the curtains, followed by the call of a gull some distance outside.
It was...peaceful.
Peace was a lie.
Coming about the bed carefully, Callisto checked underneath the covers. Nothing. She pulled back the curtains with the edge of her blade. Nothing. No, she was left alone in an opulent room with nothing but confusion and a building rage in her gut to keep her company. Her neck itched. She giggled helplessly.
"I usually prefer to have an audience present at my performances!" Her voice was an almost hiss. "You well know that the spotlight is only worth being in if noted. So, come! Show yourselves!"
Silence.
Huffing, Callisto dropped her sword, scratching wildly at her neck, attempting to appease the sudden rash that must have been building. What her broken nails found was a heavy-set link of chain mail snuggled tightly against her slim neckline, falling down to meet her shoulders.
Her hand began to shake. Someone thought they could keep her as some sort of prisoner? That was laughable. No, that was hysterical!
But they wanted to keep her prisoner in some sort of sense of false comfort. Is that what it was? Make her feel like a queen as her sanity slowly degraded? Was this a new part of Tartarus, reserved for those who seek oblivion to end their pain? Give them something they could not understand.
Callisto walked robotically back to the bed, finding herself passing by the large mirror. Catching her reflection, she saw the chain that sat around her neck and, more notably, the marks on her inner thighs.
She screamed.
She wanted all of Olympus to hear her.