*Ophelia is already approved, but I have added in a personality and appearance.*
|#609 Chandelure, The Luring Pokemon
|3'03" / 1.0m
|75.6lbs / 34.3kg
|Being consumed in Chandelure's flame burns up the spirit, leaving the body behind.
| - Inferno [Learned]
Flame Charge [TM]
Shadow Ball [TM]
|Ophelia worked as a Librarian ever since she was a small Litwick, helping her trainer, who ran the Canalave Library, to sort through the books and order them. She had also helped trainers looking for specific genres and series to find them. Opehlia knew the library from the back of her hand, only she and her trainer did. Every day they at closing time they would challenge each other to find a single book in the massive rows of bookshelves, and whoever found their's first won.
When she had evolved into a Lampent, the Librarian taught her how to read and write, first feeding her large books containing works from Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, and the likes and slowly going through each and every one with her. It wasn't long before Ophelia became obsessed with reading, and would sometimes even neglect her job just to finish a good book.
Eventually, she finally became a Chandelure, being more book-obsessed than ever. She began to write her own series of novels, about a zombie apocalypse upon the Pokemon world. However, she had no idea such a thing would ever happen to their world.
When the Epidemic hit, her owner was taken away to wherever the humans had been evacuated to, leaving her on her own to take care of the library. Ophelia took the duty to take care of the Pokemon that had come to the facility for shelter, and fended infected away. However, one day, several hoards bombarded the library, and it was chaotic.
Ophelia was unable to protect the library, so stressed and desperate, she released a Flame Charge and sped everywhere, killing the infected. However, the attack came with the price as the building burnt down, killing the others in it. She was helpless to dissipate the fire, being a fire type herself, and every time she swatted a flame it would only grow.
The Chandelure had lost everything she had that mattered to her. She grieved for days, sitting in the pile of rubble she once called 'home'. Eventually, she decided to move away from the site, taking a blank book with her. Nothing mattered anymore, because everything that did was now gone, but she decided. 'Perhaps I could make something matter.'
And without that final thought, she began to travel the world, recording her post-epidemic life into something that mattered.
|A normal Chandelure. Always carries her book around, which is filthy and now stained with mud, water, and blood. She no longer truly writes in it anymore, and instead simply keeps it around as a memento--and to also remember the deaths she has seen during her stay in the Dreamyard.
|A quiet, solidarity female who much rather listen to others than speak herself. Ophelia is well-trained in the arts of holding her tongue, and rarely ever blurts out words that she will regret in the future. An introverted thinker, and a deep one at that. Not a single thought passes her mind until it is picked apart and thoroughly analyzed. Although listless a good percentage of the time, this does not meant she dislikes noisy places and Pokemon. It's actually the contrary, as the Chandelure thoroughly enjoys the ambient knows of others holding conversations, and finds it soothing to the nerves.
Ophelia seems to greatly enjoy the company of fellow ghosts, and seems to be much more at peace when around them.
|#24D330, Gummi Green
|#562 Yamask, the Spirit Pokemon
|1'08" / 0.5 m
|3.3 lbs. / 1.5 kg
|These Pokémon arose from the spirits of people interred in graves. Each retains memories of its former life.
|Hates to lose
| - Will-O-Wisp [Learned]
- Night Shade [Learned]
- Hex [Learned]
- Protext [Learned]
"I burned myself on the grave of my lover, beaten to death by the fools who couldn't see the world through the same tinted lenses as us. It wasn't fair, her ghost whispered, it wasn't my time."
Isabelle remembers being human, once.
She was born, and for most of her life, raised in the peaceful ports of Canalave. Her father was a wealthy man, making his living manipulating stocks. Her mother was a kind, selfless woman who dedicated herself in raising her child to the best of her abilities. Her older brother was over double her age, diligently working in the libraries alongside a Litwick he affectionately called Ophelia. Isabelle lived a happy life near the sea, well-loved and with no regrets.
It all plummeted when her father lost his stocks, their wealth falling with ease. It was only a few weeks after that they truly began struggling. Taxes, bills, food, shelter...happiness had quickly become to expensive for them, her father pleading to their friends and distant family for help. Months passed by with no one even bothering to lift a finger, and Isabelle couldn't understand why. They were family and friends, shouldn't they have helped them? Another month passed, people her father invested money in only demanding more. It all soon tied to an end, however, her father driven to the brinks of desperation and insanity.
He hung himself a week before his daughter's birthday, unable to bear the pain and suffering that their whole family had been launched into.
Everything happened so quickly. Their family broke down, her brother completely disconnected himself from his sister and only parent. Her mother drowned in the darkness of grief. Little Isabelle stood before her father's makeshift funeral, prodding his body and asking the corpse to wake up. Surely he was only sleeping--this was just one big joke after all! Her papa would wake up, hug her, kiss her forehead, and laugh, showering them once again in gold coins. That kind of miracle, predictably, never came.
Unable to afford their home in gorgeous Canalave, her mother gathered her remaining strengths to move to a village west of Snowpoint, where houses were cheap. (After all, who'd want to live in a minor little village, freezing and surrounded by snow, in the middle of nowhere?) Isabelle was dragged into the bus, watching as the scenery changed into a pure white land, cold and unforgiving. Yes, that's what Isabelle would be. Cold and unforgiving. Because if she kept smiling and held confidence, surely she would fall into the same path as her father. She wonders why he never awoke when she called for him. He didn't even snore like he used to.
The village was small and quaint, so tiny that the place didn't even have a name. A population of 13, now 15 including herself and her mother, a place where everyone knew each other's names and faces. Isabelle hated it. It was too cold, too outlandish, too...friendly. There was a girl about her age, around 14, who sat in the bookstore day and night reading stories. The first time they met, she introduced herself as Elise, the daughter of the bookstore's owner. She was pleasant and respectful, always smiling. Isabelle rarely saw her, however, the child locking herself up in the battered walls of her room, a recluse.
|A typical Yamask, save for her green eyes and intricate mask that was once her face before her death. She also seems to carry around an expression of eternal hatred.
|It would be an understatement to say Isabelle hated everything.
She hates the world, society, others, nature, and everything else she deems remotely annoying. (Which, is in fact, everything!) The only Pokemon she seems to be able to tolerate is Ophelia, whom fondly reminds her of her past lover. Isabelle tends to be open to others on some levels, outright stating that she is homosexual and then soon criticizing anyone who looks at her funny afterwards. She has strong morals, and although she doesn't always follow them herself, she expects others to live by them. Her sense of justice tends to be one-sided, and the Yamask easily jumps to conclusions. She despises talking about her life before becoming a Pokemon, and often snaps at those who attempt to pry.