мσятє¢αι ⊠ gσ∂яι¢к ⊠ ριєя¢є
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What do they call you?: Mortecai, sweet, but you can call me Morte.
(Don't be expectin' me to answer to it though). . .
You're how old now?: Mmm this body's fit and lean as twenty-four year-old. But I was born in 1798.
Patriotic to a Fault: British
I've never heard that before:A type of warped witch doctor/voodoo practitioner;
the cult art, not the religion.
Proud of your nether regions?: All male, poppet *grins*.
Getting hot and bothered?:: Picky, picky. Boys are fun to ******** with, but in the long run
I like my women. But if I'm being honest here, there really is no long-term in my relationships.
I'll leave that reason up to you, sweet.
They say you're an odd sort: Mwaha, where to begin? Sometimes a right pain in the arse and everything short of a sadist [typically]. Many call me a sociopath, which might be true, but I think they're too afraid to get ta know me better. I'm the vengeful sort and if you do me wrong. . . well, you really don't want to do that sweet. I'm a fan of riddles, instruments, and entertainment in any form of the definition. The more morally horrific, the better. I seem to always be smiling in the worst way, typically when a sickeningly delicious thought crosses my mind. A lack of humor is so very depressing, haven't you ever heard laughter is the best medicine? Mhm *grins*. I bite my lip unconsciously, and always have a type of jig to my walk and a skip to my step. Able to switch my demeanor from sickeningly sweet to frighteningly pissed in but an eye-blink; some call it bi-polar, I consider it emotionally adaptable. I like to hurt things. With Voodoo dolls. And while many would consider it tacky to wear strings of crocodile teeth, I call it art! Alright, so occasionally I can get obsessive, and fall arse over tit for a new 'toy', but I consider it a healthy interest. I'm a spendthrift, compulsively so, and adore buying every new thing that catches my eye; one of my [many] bad habits.
I'm sure it's all so very tragic: My family traveled to the Americas from England in the early 1800's. To escape religious persecution, not to make a better life; We were already rich. My father commissioned to be built an extravagant home, very posh and lavish. We owned a sugar cane plantation in Louisiana near the Bayou. Naturally, we owned several slaves to care for the land. As a boy, I grew up with these slaves and their culture grew on me. From Haiti, they practiced the religion of Haitian voodoo. Thoroughly intrigued by this process, I developed my own style of voodoo without the religious ties. Eventually I grew obsessive with the spells and practices, developing a way to make me immortal.
My twin brother relished in the idea of immortality, as well, and demanded I teach him my practices. How delightful, I found, that we shared the same interests as well as features. Together, we experimented new styles and practices until we shunned our family and neighbors altogether. They said we were possessed witches and blamed the slaves for our 'ailment'. Eventually, however, we outlasted our kin. As they grew withered and decrepit, our bodies were in pristine condition. Shortly after, in the early 1900's, I began to experiment with the idea of animated dead. My brother and I had a dispute, he claiming I'd gone too far and the voodoo practice was making me insane. Ha! Supposed sanity was only a mindset to hold you back from true creation. I thought he of all people would understand. However. . . we had a falling out and he left the states altogether. I remained in our old plantation in New Orleans. It does, however, get quite lonely. . .
Who can survive you?: Entertaining. Humorous. Creative. Challenging. I ask not for much.
I can only hope they won't croak too quickly. *cackles*
Song of the Heart?: Godsmack - Voodoo
The unlucky soul: Hn~ Knock. Knock. Knock *grins*
Who's there?
