There is no Alone
I. Basic Information » Name:
Santa Estallar » Age:
20s(Appears)/4,560(Actual) » Gender:
Female-Presenting » Association:
None » Appearance Written:
A yellow flash of brilliant hair in the toneless pale white sands forever shrouded in the night. Accented in all black and the barebone white that she dresses in. Santa Estallar is a woman who if nothing else can be described as striking. Standing at a solid 6'1" in height and with a slim build she does not stand out as particularly sensual or curvaceous, but rather strikes the word 'Intense' with the flash of aesthetic that fate saw fit to lace into every ontological stroke of her existence.
Her eyes seem to change color as the light around her shifts but she is in actuality gifted with pale yellow irises that wield an incredibly intense stare even in the most passive of glances. The majority of her physical weight is situated about her hips as she has a slightly less thin curve to her along her thighs and waist. Her chest is nothing obtuse, but something compact and subtle that garners the thought that this creature was not built for the life of idle grazing or luxury. She is slim, light, and fast, and though there are some exceptions she is built for combat.
She has not one, but three hollow holes situated in the center of her sternum a few inches wide, the mid-navel above the bellybutton a few centimeters wide, and one narrow one in the center of her forehead just behind her hairline which is barely a centimeter wide. Her Estigma takes the form of two soft blue lines that curve up from her sternum hollow hole and run over her clavicles before ending in slightly curved points along her throat. Her mask fragment takes the form of a short, sharp pair of short curved immature antlers which curve around her head like a halo. » Appearance Image:
II. Personality » Personality:
Santa Estallar carries herself with a subtle and sharp intensity. She is not generally aggressive and in fact can come off as very lax at most times, but there is an undeniable aura of fierce attention about everything she does. From the way she stands to the way those eyes seem so piercing even at only a passing glance in your direction. Her presence is made to incite every ounce of alertness that one's mind can muster.
Generally taking it upon herself to be outgoing, she can have a tendency to startle people because of how quiet she makes herself out of habit, often seeming to appear out of nowhere merely on account of the fact that she moves so very little, having little presence when she is not being looked at directly which is a main product of the fact that it is her aura that has such a spiking and intense sensation to it. But when one's attention shifts away from the woman it's almost as if she isn't even there. Calm, soft spoken, and even careless in how she conducts herself at times.
This however changes entirely whenever she experiences something new. It's not always predictable, many times she will generally ignore it after a quick survey of whatever it is. But every now and then she finds something fascinating and then the truly dangerous part of her personality comes to light as she seeks to experience whatever has caught her attention in every way that she can. Every sense, and even a deadly curiosity that borders on mindless unintentional cruelty as the safety, integrity, or survivability of whatever person or thing she is affixed to goes completely out the window.
III. History » History:
"There is no truth. No Goal. This is the reward: Survival. To Exist. To scrape the world and so break yourself. But every fissure is a lesson on your soul. Break yourself a thousand times. Cut yourself a million more. Only the weakness will shave away. Destroy yourself until there is only the one, singular, unbreakable truth, that one indivisible You.
This is the Final Shape.
And Mine is a Knife.
Is there any greater beginning than nothing? Before the first smoldering dregs of the present had the time to sink in slow and cloying thoughts that sparked the complexity in our faces there were the pits. Souls of the damned, humans who did not transgress, who did not abandon, who did not sin.
When the world first sighed a mistaken groan that was life it did not flourish at first. It exploded. It Sagged. Under it's own gross, voracious weight the world had it's first life and it was marvelous, simple, and incredible. But when life bloomed it overgrew it's seedbed, the fruitful earth that had once been nothing but a playground soon became crowded and cramped, and life first learned to struggle, and amidst that struggle the first microbes discovered that the most abundant source of food was NOT the soft loamy soil that the others fought over: but the fat and simple neighbor. The first killer was born, and suddenly everything changed. Life could not afford a stagnant mindless sup of it's endless food when something hunted it. Life learned to hunt, and life learned to run, but not all of it succeeded.
As the swampy mush began to grow and diversify into truth, into sentience, there lay the mud and the dead. The pits of souls that had never had the chance to grow or be anything, who had not even the chance to be anything but sustenance. And when those first hollows died, before the Shinigami could learn to sieve out their stomach, the dead and the consumed simply fell into these anguished pits. Tarry baths of failures and the weak.
This is where Santa Estallar was born. In that suffering muck of soul that knew nothing in life but pain, suffering, and a swift end she crawled out a pale white hollow with a plain, perfectly circular mask. She had no nose, no mouth, even her body was a slim gaunt thing of barely held-together nothings. Her eyes were shut and her mask had not even holes with which she could stare at the wastes around her. She had nothing but her sense of touch to blindly stagger around her world.
But even born this way, her afterlife was not so gentle as to find pity in her state, and hunger found her like a hungry pack of wolves. At first it was annoying, and then it was painful, then it was agony, and then it was all that she was. In her blind struggle she found something so much more than fear: Pure and unadulterated suffering. Even as other hollows slunk close to her, hoping for an easy meal, she thrashed about and broke their bodies. Her pain was so great that it made her tear herself apart as she destroyed everything around her, but even as her bones splintered, her spine creaked, her skin broke, and her blood bathed those pale sends: She never died. Her body mended, reformed, and she continued to suffer, smashing those hunters to pulp with no means to make any use of the mulch.
Finally she began slamming her face and mask into the corpses. She began to ram herself into those that hunted her, and even those who soon gained the common sense to run were chased down. Attacked over and over again, she learned to feel the vibrations before they even hit her, and she began to hunt them down in frenzied, silent rushes, plowing into their bodies even as her mask slowly cracked. Until finally, she slammed her jaw into a particularly stubborn hide and it snapped, breaking off her mask and opening her mouth.
And once it was open she refused to close it, even as she drew in stronger hollows beyond just the chaff, and she found teeth and claws finding their way into her body, she refused to die. She was weak, but even weak as she was, as those maws tried to pull her in and consume her she tore their throats open from the inside, and pried their skulls apart. Her mouth was open, and when it healed, teeth formed. And she finally began to eat.
She continued this wild, random, suffering existence for many years. First she simply hunted everything and anything that she could feel moving around her. But soon she learned to hunt. Soon she learned to wait, to lay on the sands and feign death until her prey was close enough for her to surprise and tear to pieces before the first whimpering sob could pry itself from their throats.
But she was never full. Even as she ripped and tore into those scores of hollows, that emptiness inside of her never filled. Not that subtle, gored out heart that normal hollows sported. Inside of her was nothing. A massive hole straight through her sternum, another clean through her navel, and a final one clean through the center of her skull. She had no heart. She had no identity. She had no mind.
And yet, one day, she found something aside from the endless sand. With the blood of recent kills still dripping from her body, she found a lake. Not of water, but of silver. Thick, heavy, but when she cried out near it's edge, it vibrated so very differently than the bodies or the sands she was used to. It soothed her, and she leaned down and began to drink it, and though it was an aklaline disgusting taste it was still smooth and pleasant. She sank herself into it's depths and she loved the tactile feel of it lapping against her body. And she inhaled deeply, smelling that strange pungent scent that it gave off.
And then she wanted to see it.
She forgot her suffering, she forgot her hunger. She wasn't angry, or sad, or anything. She just wanted to see whatever it was. And as that wish formed in that empty heart, she opened her eyes. The vestiges of her prison falling from her face, her mask cracked and crumbling. Her eyes drank in the world for the first time, and she marveled at the sight of that silver water, catching the reflection of that endless moon and night, as if two halves of the same whole.
In the wake of her hunger she found a softer, gentler vice: curiosity. This was so beautiful, she thought that surely this was not the only thing around her. And soon she began to explore her surroundings, unaware of how truly desperate and vicious her need to explore would truly become.
IV. Equipment » Equipment:
V. Racial Techniques/Abilities/Skills » Racial Abilities: Desperate Regeneration
- A unique form of regeneration. Rather than her body struggling to reform itself into it's proper natural shape, instead her desperation in whatever she is seeking to do is so great that she heals AGGRESSIVELY. If she is reaching for something, her arm won't grow back, it will grow longer. If she is reaching through something that cuts into her, she will regenerate around and past it in twisted and even agonizing ways simply to accomplish what she is doing rather than to reform herself into how she is supposed to be. Of course, when she is settled and no longer focused on something her body will begin breaking itself down and then reshaping her to how she is originally, but as soon as she find a purpose this horrible effect starts anew. With her evolution into an arrancar, her control of this regeneration can be controlled and directed by her conscious mind. As virulent and advantageous as this may seem, it isn't as if her body is actually evolving to accomplish a task. While she can grow and reform into obscene new shapes, she still cannot change what she is made of and whatever she grows into will still have the same strength, durability, and other base properties as her normal body.
VI. Sealed Powers » Zanpakutô Name:
Sola Esclava Lonely Slave » Zanpakutô Appearance:
In it's sealed state, Santa's zanpaku'to takes the form of a sleek black ninjato with a narrow guard and glossy tecture to the metal. Along the edge are very small 2cm holes along the sharp edge of the weapon, running all the way down it's straight edge. It is wrapped in soft black cloth and small white fleks are sewn into the material which give it a speckled look. » Unique Power: Corpse Desperation
- The manifestation of her Aspect of Death: Desperation. Her power manifests in the sheer will and ferocity with which she seeks out what she wants. This power causes her to shed the souls that she consists of and radiate them into the air around her. Any surface that is exposed to this radiation causes a rapid and horrific growth and flesh, bone, muscle and all manner of bodily material grows rapidly in the form of limbs, torsos, heads, but generally whatever is most suited for the action that is warranted as copies of her body grow like weeds out of her environment and swarm the object of her attention. Of course, this is not a careful and slow process, this is a rushed, feverish flood and as such these replicas of her are often missing things like skin, eyes, vital organs, and other bits that are not necessary for the mass of flesh, limbs, and teeth to perform whatever task Santa has in mind. While this process CAN be directed it is incredibly hard for Santa to stop or slow it down, and it can even happen automatically outside of her control. Even her normal ceros and bala are corrupted by this radiation and it is not uncommon for these obscene growths to form in the wake of these attacks. While she is not subject to pain, she IS still connected to this growth allowing her to sense through what sensory organs grow in the mess and she can even be poisoned or otherwise negatively effected by violations of her spirit through these growths.
VII. Resurrección » Resereccion Name:
Sola Esclava » Resereccion Release Phrase:
Garra en la tierra (Claw at the Dirt) » Release Actions:
Holding out the blade, which then crumples in on itself, causing a very loud screeching metallic noise. » Resereccion Appearance:
Upon resurrecting, Santa's antlers grow and she grows a thick shaggy green coat of fur over her waist and lower body, her legs contorting to be slender and deerlike with cloven hooves. White carapace forms armor up along her chest but only covers the center, leaving her sides and hips exposed. A thin chain of small horn-like bone plates run up the length of her spine and up into her antlers, dangling like a chandelier. And lastly, her estigma spiders out, curving in vein-like black lines along her shoulders, down her back and slightly up the back of her neck into the base of her skull. » Resereccion Abilities: Malezas Supurantes - Festering Weeds
This power is the main manifestation of her soul's s strength when resurrected. Every nonliving surface becomes coated in her reiatsu as she begins irradiating souls rapidly, causing her Corpse Desperation to grow rampant as rushed, amalgamated structures of her own unfinished body grows on every available surface within 300 meters. Though she is not without control of what grows from this awful garden, and in her released state she is able to manipulate the composition and elements found in her body to create any number of weapons or tools. From blades made from sinew and bone to a firebomb made from a gland forced to produce massive amounts of sulfur and nitrogen.Raíces Rastreras - Creeping Roots
Santa's growths are generally restricted to nonliving surfaces as generally the soul has natural barriers that try to keep outside influence out. However, whenever a target has an exposed injury or even worse: suffers an injury near Santa, her growths can begin to form along the wound itself. This process takes more effort and as such is much more controlled, only happening at Santa's will and as such when she wishes these growths can be much more whole and complete than the virulent and messy stuff that her main ability produces.
I. Skill Sheet General Skills
- Durability: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Trained/Beginner/Untrained
- General Speed: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Strength: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Martial Skill: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Perquisa: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Sonido: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Cero/Bala: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Hierro: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Regeneration: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Willpower/Determination: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Mental Deduction: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
- Focus: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
IX. Role Play Sample » Roleplay Sample: