This story will be a little bit different from my other one. For now, just bear with me and assume that it is not related to Believing in Magic. Review, favorite, and/or follow! Don't be shy cx
Keep Calm and OC' On!
For one reason or another, I had a very bad reception into the spirit world. Yeah, that's right, I said spirit world. A world where holidays are personified and given powers. Like the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. Even things that aren't holidays seemed to have been personified. Good dreams and nightmares; Sandman and Pitch respectively, and the spirit of winter. Jack Frost. Apparently a group of spirits make up The Guardians, they protect the children of the world and a whole bunch of other official stuff. This includes Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, Jack Frost, Sandman, and the Tooth Fairy. These spirits are the most believed in and the most powerful. And being believed in is everything here. Cause if no one believes in you, no one can see you. So, with my automatic bad reputation and total lack of believers, my new spirit life is rather lonely. Huh? Who am I? Oh, right. Totally meant to save that till later… seriously, I did!
I am Amelia Renee, Spirit of Doubt and Common Sense. Normally the moon -yes I said the moon- tells you this after you wake up. Your name, that is, usually he lets you figure out your purpose on your own and people end up giving you your title. So yeah, the whole automatic dislike makes so much more sense when you think about it now. Not one spirit stopped to listen to my whole title before going off on me! Luckily I had my trusty bat. It was a work of aluminum elegance and sang when you hit something with it. It was also an electric blue that I just loved. But Amelia, if you are a spirit, doesn't that mean you died? Good point! As it turned out, I did die. Right in the streets of New York for the grand total of six pennies, one broken pen, a library card, and half a pack of mint bubble gum! The contents of my purse that I carried at the time in case it wasn't clear. I didn't really change in death, except now my complexion is a pale ivory, and I even wore the same clothes.
Well, not exactly. I replaced my bloodied shirt with a black midriff that had sturdy spaghetti straps to keep everything in place but exposed a fair amount of my toned stomach. An easy style for me to pull off with somewhat generous curves. I still wore black skinny jeans with some sweet knee-high converse, every neon color possible covering them in an explosion of color, and my black face bandana with white whiskers, a kitty smirk with a pointy tooth showing, and a pink cat nose design. I also wore my soft, black, leather jacket around my waist at the side and a matching leather bag on my back. It carried my essentials. My bat was holstered to my side by the leather jacket like a sword. My hair was cut in a punk pixie style, bangs swept to my left and framing my face perfectly, and the length cut increasingly shorter to the back of my head. But not so short that I couldn't dye a good two and a half inches with every outrageous color I could. Everything from bubble gum pink to stark white in random order at my ends. The rest of my hair was it's natural color. An oddly warm ebony black. A nice contrast to my icy blue eyes so pale, they were almost white. Yeah, so now that you have a nice picture of me in your head, in all my badass glory, I can continue on with my real story. An entertaining tale of daring, romance, misunderstandings, clearing misunderstandings, and possibly even adventure. Okay, it's totally going to have some adventure, but you can put that romance nonsense out of your head. I ain't gonna be 'part a that nonsense!
