Name: Angel Isabel Whitewing
Birth-It was a busy day in Angel's neighborhood. Aether, that's what it was called. A few chills rolled through, but the angels were oblivious. There was too much excitement. A small girl was going to be born to proud parents Peter and Mia Whitewing. The Aether angels worked tirelessly to make this baby shower the best ever, for the baby girl was going to be the first baby girl born in this neighborhood. It had been nine months since the founding of Aether, and this night, June twenty-first, was going to hail the first baby angel for this neighborhood. At exactly 12 noon, the girl was born. Her eyes were light gray, almost white, and her skin a sandy tone. She was moved to her family cloud, and she was placed in her crib of iron. There, she was named Angel. Angel Isabel Whitewing.
*goes into magical time machine and comes out 15 years later*
15th Birthday- Angel stepped outside her family cloud and just looked at it. It was slowly shrinking, as her room was not needed anymore. It was angel customs for the 15-year-olds to move out of the family clouds on their birthday. There was an empty white cloud next door. Her parents stood on the doorstep, waving. The girl blushed. She had already moved all her stuff into the new cloud, and it was slowly expanding to make room for everything she brought, plus the rooms she was adding. "Calm, down Mother. I'll still see you..." Angel said to her crying mother. Then she learned she was a Chosen One.
A few days after the move- RP for Angel starts now!
Personality: Fiery temper, bold personality, speaks her mind.
Take this image, put it in your mind, and make it look medieval. But I keep the scythe. It's epic.
Power: The ability to fly, using her wings. Don't want to make her OP though, so she can only fly for, like, 3 hours at a time without overly exhausting herself.
Weaknesses: A few pressure points. One in the hand, behind her knuckle, one on her neck, one behind her knee, and two on either side of her neck. She refuses to kill anything. Her motto in battle is: "Not kill, dear sir, but inflict damage beyond repair."
Anything Else: Well, I'm being an angel like Crimson... Wait- Can iron be crimson? I don't know. But did you know that "queso" is Spanish for "cheese"?