Povitrya hated when it came to telling people what her name was. She could never learn how to do that. She only knew one way. She held up both hands and blew air onto them, and flicking her right index finger, a swirling white ball appeared in her hands. She held her other hand parallell (How do you spell that?) to the other, making the solid ball become a sphere of wind. She held it out to the human, hoping he would catch on.

Povitrya sighed and posed the way she did in a painting of herself inside a Ukrainian church. The ball of air lingered in her hands the way it did in the painting.

Povitrya squinted. He was close, but not quite. All he needed was to guess air. She sighed, holding her position. When her muscles began aching, she dropped to the ground and used the knife to etch out a word. She couldn't write english, so Ukrainian would have to do. повітря

((Sorry more chores than I thought >_> And I'm adding a human now if that's alright, since our human to angel ratio is off, and our male to female is off))

Name: Allyn Perkins

Age: 19

Gender: Female

A/H: Human

Appearance: Allyn is a short girl that wears high, black platform flip-flops to try and make up for her lack of height. Her dark brown hair is short and choppy, hidden mostly under a white newsie boy styled hat with an orange brim. Also hidden under the brim is her blue eyes that look foggy or clouded over. She wears a white midriff, spaghetti strap top over her gray cargo shorts that are held up by an orange belt. Her left ear has three metal loops through it, and her right has five.

Personality: Allyn was the rebel and only child of her family. Her parents loved to molly coddle her, so she tended to lash out. She likes to do things on her own and get places on her own steam rather than rely on other people. She says what's on her mind, no matter how unsocially accepted it is.

Weapons: Allyn doesn't fight much, but she has a walking stick that she can whack someone with if they get too close.

History: Allyn moved out the moment she turned 18. Since school wasn't really her thing, she decided to go to work instead of study. Because she was hard to live with she never had a roommate for longer than a few months, so when the bomb hit she was completely alone.

Crush: N/A

Other: She was blinded from the bomb. As time past she gained a little bit of sight, but it has not returned fully.

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Sitting on top of a bent piece of metal, Russ looked out on the destruction that had happened in the last few days. Why had such a thing happened? he wondered as he tried to take it all in. He had thought that life was going well, that there was mostly good people in the world. Had they, the angels, done something wrong with their duties to have such a thing wipe out their charges?

With a sigh the red head stretched out his wings and jumped off his perch. He needed to look for survivors, he refused to believe that everything that lived had been wiped out. No one could have committed such a sin that all humanity was written out of history. Slowly he flew over the wreckage, some times stopping and turning over large pieces of rubble. Russ was just about to call his search over for the day when he heard someone sobbing in the distance.

He dashed as quickly as his wings and feet would take him towards the sound. He found a young woman sitting with her legs spread eagle  and her hands in front of her. Her hands and knees cut up it looked like from falling several times. Tears fell quickly from her eyes, but the sound that came out of her throat didn't sound like sorrow, but more like frustration.

Russ walked slowly up to the girl, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The girl jumped at the sound of his voice and touch, as if she had not seen him walking towards her. She crawled backwards a few paces to create distance between them. Russ waited a moment before repeating his question. The girl's face twisted with emotion before she responded.

"I can't see," she finally replied sourly. "I can't see... I haven't been able to since the explosion."

Russ pondered the situation for a moment. He had not been a gentle enough soul in his life to be granted the gift of healing in his second. But maybe there were other angel looking around for survivors just like he was that were.

"Okay," he told her. "I'm going to find you some help. I'm going to pick you up now, alright?"

"You're what?" she hissed back. Russ ignored her response and scooped the girl up anyway. He quickly spread his wings wide again and took off from the ground. The girl squeaked a little and grabbed onto his shirt.

"What's going on?" she demanded to know.

"I'm looking for help," Russ told her as he carefully scanned the ground, hopping beyond hope that there were others close by.

Name:  Myu Vixen

Age: 15

Gender: female

A/H: Human

Appearance:

Personality: Quiet, but temperamental.  She cannot speak for she has no tongue because it had gotten sliced off by some goon she met in an dark ally.  She carried notebooks around everywhere with her, so she can draw, and speak through words.  She gets easily offended if you say the wrong thing, and often misunderstands things.  She follows no religion.  Even though she's stubborn and temperamental, she has a very soft heart and loves to love others.

Weapons: .... would a pen and a pad of paper count? xD

History: She was a rape baby, meaning that her mother was raped and Myu was the outcome of it.  Her mother died shortly after giving birth to her, and Myu was taken in by nuns in a nearby local church.  She ran away, though, when she was thirteen because they tried to force her to follow their religion.  When she ran away, she stopped in a dark ally way where she met two thugs who raped her and cut her tongue out so she couldn't scream for help.  She's able to make grunts and growls and sounds like that, but words are forever lost.  She's been living on her own for two years.  Now, since the bomb, she doesn't know what to make of her life and is very confused about the paths she's optioned to take.

Crush:  Charlie, Russ, and Mordecai

Other:  She wears some sort of dark clothes, usually a black silk dress with brown boots.

(One flight across the country makes a roleplay of differences...)

Povitrya nodded, then looked around to see another angel. She tilted her head to the side, hoping that he would repeat what they said. She couldn't have heard it, angels have the softest of voices. She ran some sounds through her head the way she did when she wanted to hear angel speak. The instrument was quiet, it had no humane voice. The wind whistled faintly between her ears, no humane voice. She had to think of sounds behind her. The slight tapping of wood, a trio of chimes falling to the ground. She couldn't hear the angel.