[attr="class","tbeapponetop2"]

[attr="class","tbeapponetop3"]

[attr="class","tbeapponeper2"]



Victoria is the embodiment of truth. Her counterpart deals in ideals, the what-ifs and maybes, but she, herself, only serves what is the here, the now, and the absolute truth. No speculation, no circumstances, no nothing. She's grounded to reality, never having her head in the clouds and never letting ambitions get carried away by frivolous fantasies. More than anything, however, that this dictates is the fact that she, herself, never lies. Not anymore, that is. Not even the exclusion of facts, feelings, or anything will hinder her telling the truth – if you ask her a question, she will tell it to you straight out, no sugar coating and no exaggerations. This makes her a beautifully unbiased third party, and you never have to worry about her saying things just to make you feel nice about yourself, but in the same instance, she can be horribly blunt about the worst of matters. If she thinks your drawing looks like absolute garbage, she's going to tell you that straight out; if your mother has been missing and is thought to be dead, there will be no “oh, but we might still find her!” coming out of her. In a world as infected as the one the citizens of Santcum City are forced to live in, her brutal honesty can honestly be seen as more of a curse than a blessing; there is much more wrong to point out than good.[break][break]

On the other hand, obsessed with the idea of the truth, she immediately believes any and all are going to tell that to her until given a strong reason to think otherwise. Being gullible comes down to an art with this one, despite how perceptive she likes to claim she is. Honestly, even if all evidence points to the opposite of what is being told being the truth, she's still likely to believe the word of someone else's mouth, too afraid to admit that she lives in a world surrounded by liars and cheats. Outside of human and Gifted interaction, however, she is very alert and aware of her surroundings, able to take in a small range of environment very quickly and use that knowledge to her later advantage. This is helpful in combat when using her outside resources, and also keeps her from setting large quantities of things on fire on accident.[break][break]

Despite the fact that she was at one time very god-like, near invincible and feared by most, Tori's current body is very frail compared to what she's had in days long past. Before she was migrated, it was used as a disguise to keep a very human world from panicking over the presence of a deity amongst them while she and her fellow legendaries hunted down Arceus; as such, it was never meant to be used for this long, and the fact that she is stuck with it until the vessel dies is a little frustrating. Frustrating in the sense that she tends to forget just how weak it – she – currently is. She's incredibly reckless, battle strategies almost always involving throwing herself right in the enemies face rather than hanging back and playing it safe. She'll jump from buildings for the thrill of it, and pray a cloud of her own fire will help give her a soft landing. (It usually doesn't.) She'll pick fights with people she doesn't like, even if she's at a horrible disadvantage, and boasts the new bruises that seem to show up every single night. Unable to accept help from others, either, she'll insist on being able to handle her own problems and will sooner attack someone just trying to help than admit to needed help in the first place. Persistence is both a blessing and a curse in this one – when there's a chance for her victory, the ability to keep getting up after being knocked down is desirable; but when there is absolutely no hope for her, her inability to know when to back down is likely to be the death of her.[break][break]

Victoria is greedy. Truly, it's as simple as that; she keeps everything she can get to herself, and won't share with anyone if she can help it. She revels in money, not afraid to construct an empire of wealth on of foundation of corpses, but is about as far from frugal with it when she's got enough to throw away. At her financial prime, she thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of limousines and enough expensive alcohol to kill a horse, and wasn't afraid to through wads of bills at people to get them to dance at her feet. Money is power, after all, and when one knows what it's like to be worshiped as a god, power is everything. Power in terms of strength is as crucial to her as power in influence, as well; to label her as “violent” would be a grave understatement, and to say that she became a medic for any reason outside of wanting to learn how to mend her own wounds would be a lie. Problems are solved with fists, fires, and alcohol bottles broken over heads. Similarly, plans are not things that are made or upheld; when everything can be solved with a little elbow grease and god-powers, why waste time trying to sort everything out before hand? Haphazard, most certainly, is a title she wears with pride.[break][break]

The white-haired woman, however, is not all bad. She is quite humble, never one to brag and never even mentioning what talents she has until someone else has brought them up first. She won't belittle herself if she knows she is good at something – this comes with her policy of one hundred percent honesty, after all – but she won't inflate it or continuously talk of her accomplishments. She's vivacious, generally upbeat and as lively as the flames she conjures. Most people generally think that they have a good time when spending time around her; well, if she isn't picking fights left and right, that is. Finally, laziness is something that the equation that makes her her doesn't even accommodate for. It may have been the Original One that made her beautiful from the start, but it was her own actions that made the world revere her; similarly, she did not get to be the fearsome Lady in White while sitting around and letting someone else do all the work. She takes things into her own hands and puts into them as much effort as she can, almost every time without fail.

[attr="class","tbeapponebio2"]

perhaps god gave the answers to those with nothin' to say

They have only ever lived to serve.[break][break]

The Creator breathes life into them in centuries long passed, two souls living in perfect harmony in the empty husk of a body It has not finished making for them. They share a single mind – a balance of truth and ideals, willpower and restraint, empathy and justice – and the Lord they so readily serve believes that It has finally created a deity worth shaping in his image. They are the most beautiful of dragons, shining bright in the night and shading the blinding light of day, and as It sends them off to the mainland to preach his ways to the arrogant humans who have taken root there, they revel in the way the maggots bow at their feet. For generations, they spread the word of their Maker to the people, and not a day passes that they do not enjoy their purpose. Their servitude to the Original One.[break][break]

But not all of the humans fear the brilliant beast that has been sent down to teach them. A pair of brothers, twins, perhaps not arrogant so much as they were ambitious, appear before them and do not tremble like the rest. The twins speak of a land they envision, one separate from the mainland where it may flourish in its own right and develop beyond the other regions that may drag it down. They beg them to give them aid, to use their godly powers to break a part of the land away so that the dream they both have envisioned may finally become true. A balance of wonder and hesitation is what leads them to seek the council of the Creator, and it is will his blessing that they use the powers of fire, thunder, and ice to shake the earth, split the land, and begin their rule over an island isolated from all else. They work with the twins to establish order, much like the perfect order that they, themselves, represent. The initial hysteria subsides, and what was just another area in Johto has burned away to give rise to a new power: the region of Unova.[break][break]

As the heroes that worked to create and maintain the region, however, watch their years slip by them through loose fingertips, things begin to change. As children and young men, they could always see eye to eye. With time, though, the things they hold dear began to shift and change.[break][break]

Truth?[break][break]

Ideals?[break][break]

Which one is more important?[break][break]

For years, the two combat each other over this, their close relationship shattered and the structure of the region that relied on their unity shaken. Frightened, the great joint dragon try to figure out which truly took precedent over the other. A perfect balance of empathy and logic does them nothing, provides no clear winner, and in their desperation, they split into two: she, white, truth; he, black, ideals. As the Creator mourns the split of yet another failure of his creations and the twins both she and he broke apart to support wither away to the natural laws of life, both dragons part ways. Unova, too, withers in their wake. In time, however, it will rise again without the aid of its makers, and only then will it prove to be the region the brothers had forseen all along.[break][break]

Three masters she has served, and in less than three centuries, she has failed them all.

but who am i foolin'? i'm the king of the ruins

It is a pleasure to burn.[break][break]

She burns the agony and the hate from the region she has helped to build from nothing, and the world reveres her for her dedication, her grace, and her honesty. She brings them fire to warm themselves, fire to light their way, fire to light the sky so they may marvel at its greatness. Together with the rains and lightning that the deity she was once joint with lays claim to, they brighten the path that Unova must take, and their people reward them with names. Long ago, they had shared one such title – too elaborate and holy to be spoken by human tongue, to be comprehended by human mind – but she accepts her replacement because it is one that belongs to her and her alone.[break][break]

Reshiram.[break][break]

The masses build them twin towers, one on each side of the globe, where they may watch over their sheep from a height fit for gods. She settles herself in a place they call the Dragon Spiral Tower, and it is from there that she spends her days: teaching, watching, aiding. They love her as much as they fear her, and she thinks of them as all of her children. Perhaps she has failed the expectations of the Creator, yes, but the way the old and the young and the strong and the weak love her for her honesty and empathy most certainly makes up for her failures of the past.[break][break]

Where she can see beauty in what is, however, her fellow deity – Zekrom – can only see beauty in what can be. He is the ideals that contrast her truths, and he preaches to his follows on the eastern shores of Unova what will happen once they sacrifice their ways in exchange for advancement. For years, fear of change leaves the odds in her favor; though, when her fires begin to destroy as much as they help, her children turn their back on her and face toward a future of “might be”s and “perhaps”es. Needless to say, she is furious with her equal, especially as she watches the humans die needlessly for his cause.[break][break]

When they battle, it shakes the earth and heavens, and thousands of humans and Pokemon alike are slaughtered in the fray. Electricity against fire, ideals against truth. For five whole years, they lock themselves in combat, and it is only when she falls to the ground that an unclear winner is decided. He moves to slay her, to end the only threat to his idealistic world, but quick thinking and quicker movements allow her to flee from the scene before her existence screeches to a halt. Returning to the Dragon Spiral Tower would be too predictable, and he would surely follow her there to finish the job. Instead, she attempts to hide in the masses, humbling herself and approaching before the humans who serve her.[break][break]

A god among men hardly goes unnoticed, Reshiram realizes quickly, and as the black dragon she's once been a part of tears across the land in search of her, she realizes what she must do.

if you wanna cut the cards, sammy's gonna up the odds

It takes quite a bit of time, and more corpses than she'd like to admit to – any are too many, truly – but the effort pays off in the end, and she finally discovers the secret to merging with the body of a human.[break][break]

Victoria Martz is the name of the first human she takes control of, casting out the soul that had originally been there and adopting not only her name, but her life. The wife of one of the wealthiest men in the region, possibly the world, the extravagant life she leads while hiding away from her vengeful partner is not much of a step down from her deity-like status. No longer can she burn things whenever she so feels like it, and her adopted husband seems to catch on to something not being entirely right with his supposed “wife” from the day she takes over, but as time passes, she begins to enjoy her time spent in the lap of carefree luxury. Zekrom ceases his pursuit no more than a decade later, yet she decides that a few more years as the lovely Mrs. Martz would never hurt anyone.[break][break]

No, no, it's not her snatching the body of an innocent passerby that hurts anyone. It is, instead, the greedy murder of Mr. Martz and the loss of everything she owns to the thieves that show up in his murder's wake.[break][break]

It all happens so fast, she feels. One day he's there, smiling down at her as she picks flowers in the garden, or makes a joke right up his alley, or is simply there. The next, he is being taken away to be prepped for a funeral. The one after that, she comes home to an empty home. All of the restraint in her body and soul can't keep her from collapsing to the floor and bawling, mourning for something that was never really her's to begin with, but feels so wrong to be without. To leave her host's body and allow the real Victoria's soul to return now would be a crime she would never forgive herself for. All of the grief in her heart is dulled by the fact that she has been here for only a fraction of the time as the real one, and the love she held for the family and the servants and everyone associated with her vessel is halved – at best.[break][break]

Instead, she leaves what little she has to her “children” and her “servants” and heads for the streets. It's here that she hopes to start over, to build a life of her own from the ground up. For all of the realities that she's so painfully aware of, for one time in her life, she gives into idealism: if she works hard enough, maybe; if she's kind enough, maybe; if she prays to the Creator enough, maybe; perhaps she will be able to start over and carry on her life as a human until the day her vessel breaks down and dies. If only the portraits that fantasies painted depicted something that could actually bear results.[break][break]

The characters without a home or without work do not accept her in the way she had envisioned, and more often than not, she is attacked by men and women alike on a near daily basis. They cut her hair, steal the few things she acquires, mock her for her lost status and family. She learns that, to wear one's heart on their sleeve is to have their heart stolen, mutilated, and returned in peaces. She learns that kindness is about as far from a virtue as can be when one is clawing for scraps at the bottom of the barrel. She learns that all of her grace, all of her empathy is wasted. Truth hits her like a bullet in the back, and she wears it like a mask to cover up the traits society deems as weaknesses.[break][break]

It starts with miniscule thefts. She pickpockets a knife from one of the passerby and uses it to steal the gold from the people who are unfortunate enough to pass her by. So little, however, does she actually earn; upon learning this, she ups the odds. She breaks into homes, takes their silver, and sells it for her own personal gain. It isn't until she is nearly caught that she is forced to resort to murder to keep her identity as hazy as she can keep it, but even that quickly becomes routine. Before she knows what is happening, the name Martz has become feared – whispered in hushed tones on the streets, in homes – and she revels in this new found treatment. Even the law cannot reckon with a god in sheep's clothing, and the whole region trembles at her feet in a way they haven't since she was a god in god robes. Only this time, its different. Her flames are not met with joy, but with terror.[break][break]

And as centuries pass – her body never aging, “Martz” becoming the enigmatic “Lady in White”, the guilt over crimes ebbing way to indifference and even pleasure – she thinks she likes terror even better.

standing in the afterglow, i guess we gave 'em quite a show

The world passes into the modern age, and it's on a thrown of wealth and corpses that she wonders if she has taken things a bit too far.[break][break]

A bullet wound through the chest and a dead vessel provides a clear “yes”.

i've been waiting, long forgotten, shipwrecked on a shore

For all of her time under the guise of a simple human, she had never once feared what death might feel like. She was a wolf among sheep, a god among men, all powerful and untouchable, able to melt steel with little more than a thought, and she did not fear death. Simply because she did not fear, however, did that mean that it would not catch up to her eventually. The bullet wound stings worse than the scrape of metal (crimson liquid) against the back of her throat, and she flails on the ground of the alleyway as she chokes on borrowed blood and stares up at the face of a woman she should have known better than to trust with a pistol. The world darkens and she dies – but then warm sunlight is pooling on her face, dull compared to the heat of her flames, and she wakes where she had started some millions of years in the past, all white and billowing perfection. Victoria Martz has died, centuries of fear laid to rest in that filthy street between two concrete buildings. Reshiram has not.[break][break]

The air in the Dragon Spiral Tower has never felt more heavy when she returns to it, weakened in mind and body. Zekrom's tower has long since been destroyed, but he'd left her own vacant in the instance that she ever dared to show her face again. In fact, she's surprised to see him not there for unofficially “welcoming party” of her back to her god-like status. She floats through halls and rooms, up stairs and out doors, and marvels at the plethora of dragon-type Pokemon that have made themselves at home in her absence. It's of no concern to her, though; so long as they are not human, they matter little to her superior mind. In turn, they leave her be when she collapses at the peak, exhausted beyond comprehension and wanting nothing more than to fall back to rest, however long it may be. She barely recalls a time long gone when the Original One had told her of something like this happening. (She never even considers that Zekrom's absense may be because he, too, has been rendered in stone.)[break][break]

Her head duck. Her wings bend. She furls in on herself until a dragon of great height and girth has been tucked away in an orb that could held the hands she controlled what feels like only yesterday. Slumber greedily calls out her name, and she is powerless to disobey its command.

never burn the bridges before you or bridges behind

Rage burns brightly and ambitions run deep, and neither has she felt so strongly since the days of her own youth until a little boy with flashy hair and a voice that could topple mountains totes her around like a ball in his bag. She can't hear the words that come from the humans mouths as they toss her around like candy, back and forth and back again, but what she can feel is the rumble of emotions burning high, shaking against her stony surface and coaxing her out of sleep. It's not enough yet, though. She's been asleep for what feels like an eternity, fighting against the feeling of opening her eyes and the world that hates, hates, hates her, and it will take more than his anger and his confusion to give her cause to walk with the waking world again like she once has. So it's not enough – not until he's fighting tooth and nail against his closest friend, ideals grinding against ideals and the truth of the nature of their relationship being carved sound into stone – and then her stone is what is being cut into, splitting open to reveal a goddess who has walked among men and never intends to retreat into her Light Orb again. They want her to be their truth, and they want him to be their hero. They want her. Someone wants her. It's as liberating as her awakening, truly, and she vows to fight any foe in his name if that's what it will take to keep this feeling sealed warmly in her heart. Any foe at all.[break][break]

Even her own brother.[break][break]

Victory is hard fought. She expects no less, facing off against the same creature who nearly did her in during their last battle. Things have changed since then, however; stakes have been raised, faith she's long since missed out on put on her shoulders, and orders from two vastly different trainers determining almost every action of the battle. What ultimately changes things is that she can't afford to lose – and when the boy finally understands her as he does his own Pokemon, it's no wonder she is the one to deal the finishing blow. Their struggle had been put on hold for generations upon generations. It is only now that a victor has finally been determined. (After all this time, she never would have dreamed that it would be her.)[break][break]

She can't help Black in the struggles that follow, battered and bruised as she may be, but he's proven himself time and time again to be a formidable force all on his own. Reshiram knows long before the battle draws to its conclusion who will emerge the ultimate victor – all it is is a matter of sitting back and waiting for the credits to roll. (What she doesn't expect is the familiar call of deep sleep, a “nap” interrupted but not quite over, and the fact that when the dust has settled, this poor boy gets sucked up with her into her stone prison. Familiar fear washes over them – all of them – but she can't help but think that at least this time, she won't be quite so lonely.)

i look to the future with the eyes of the blind

When she wakes, it is because duty calls once more.[break][break]

The other legendaries have never been what she would call “her biggest fans,” but they certainly waste no time hounding her with inquiries when she takes her first breath of fresh air (Black in tow, safe and sound if not a bit rattled) since the battle against Team Plasma about her previous life among humans and how they might go about doing just the same. She doesn't understand the conflict at first or the desperation in their eyes – she has been asleep, after all – but it's hard to decline an offer when it's given in what's practically in the form of begging. She's afraid, as well, that she might just curl up for another unwarned nap if she stays in her normal form much longer. (More importantly, there are sins she's learned she needs to atone for. She won't let her second life go up in flames.)[break][break]

The means by which Tori gains enough money to purchase what she's had her eye on are anything but legal, but after more years than any man, woman, or god could bother to count on their fingers of thievery and murder, she thinks that dealing on the black market is as tiny a sin as they come. Her illegal goods stop being produced the moment she has hit her total, as well, tens of junkies upset at their sudden lack of a fix when she counts up her quarters and finds her total satisfying. She'd spent days, weeks searching for just the right one, and to find it still for sale when she'd gotten the money she needed for it is almost enough to make her cry out of sheer happiness. She enters the shop with a massive jar full of coins and crumpled dollar bills, and when she's stepping out into the sunlight of Unovan streets, it's with an empty jar and an electric guitar hanging from her neck. No, she hadn't thought of music, but it was as good a suggestion as any.[break][break]

The newly-dubbed Victoria Carter has never had many things she was able to immediately pick up. Yes, she'd been an expert fire starter from the get go, but that was her specific purpose on creation. Killing and stealing hadn't come easy, and it had only been years of trial and error that had gotten her to the point she'd been at before forcing herself to retire from crime. Even battles, whether they be with human fists or Pokemon attacks hadn't come simple at first; she was designed to be a preacher, not a fighter, and she couldn't count the number of times she'd been beat down more than the number of times she'd wound up on top. The guitar, however, comes to her almost immediately. Chords aren't easy to find, what with a lack of mentors or Internet to browse for them on, but when she's figured them all out, it's not long before she's stringing them together into intricate melodies. She makes those strings sing, practices throughout the day and night on the streets, in empty warehouses, sometimes even in the presence of the Yin to her Yang.[break][break]

With every day, she gets better and better, and she doesn't even realize that she could do this for a living until people are asking, begging her to play at bars, events, almost anything under the sun. Then she's part of a band, she and four others who start of small and quickly rise to greater and greater heights. They chant her name at the stage, play her songs on the radio; she plays her days away, each solo better than the last, and if she'd known that this all would have made her this happy, she would have gotten a human body and ditched her criminal ways long ago.[break][break]

The world is her oyster.[break][break]

(She tries not to worry too much about the day when this will all come crashing to a halt.)

[attr="class","tbeapponebot2"]PLAYED BY LEAP

[attr="class","tbeapponebot3"]