Name:

Higure Sachiko “Twitch”     

Nature:

Wayward, rambunctious, flippant.
           Masochistic, submissive, cynical.

Player:

D-chan ((o2b2insane))

Livejournal:

t0ky0_eyes

Occupation:

Adept Spy for work.
     Freelance killer for kicks.
          Masochistic whore for pleasure.

Organization:

Trail of the Lost Ghost

 tears streaming down my smiling

   face, taking a knife to my wrists

a voice I believed, the lies laugh,

addicted to being the victim

Appearance:

 I am the girl you sometimes notice skipping down the street to the beat of her own music. I am not tall. Nor am I short. I am not skinny. Nor am I fat. I am the one you passed by today on your way to work. I am the girl sitting across from you on the bus. I am a Ghost. But you didn’t need to know that, did you?

 crying watching the red liquid
trail down the veins
Unable to even take my own life,
 addicted to being the victim 

People claim that I have a breathless beauty. The kind of beauty that isn’t striking or exotic or unearthly, no my beauty is unsophisticated and unique, but not classic.  I am the type of beauty that is not accented with cosmetics, mine is the beauty that is unembellished and natural.

dying the white room red,

My cut,go deeper
    and deeper         and deeper

 My eyes are the color of coal and gaze unflinchingly at the cruelty of the world. My face is childish with its dainty nose and flushed cheeks. My mouth is lively and expressive while my lips are sumptuous and pleasurable. My hair is silky to the touch as it barely brushed my shoulder blades. The color is indefinable, as it seems to flitter with my moods between a dirty flaxen of harvested wheat to the color of the night sky.

bound by the crowds of people,
I feel lonely, unable to do anything
Tomorrow may never come again,
night of my 16th Year

The flesh that covers me is the color of fresh milk and as smooth as silk. Pale lines and blotches, scars of my darker fetish, lie littered across my skin. The brilliant colors of my irezumi tattoo are prominent against the paleness of my milky flesh as a sign of my new life. My figure is neither sumptuous nor deficient, but ample in the right places for pleasure and slim where is desirable. My limbs are lean and sinewy.

 Night is scary, night is cold,
give myself over to the movements of the night.
Tomorrow may never come again,
Spring of my 16th Year                                 t-time for the kicksme a decent fighter.one of your damn business. cash so she could set herse

I often adorn myself in clothing that is picturesque, out-of-date, diverse and unconventional. From flowing Gypsy skirts to collared shirts with polka dot ties to washed out jeans and a faded t-shirt.  I find it to be a satisfying change from the fashions of today. The colors of my wardrobe are as assorted and myriad as those in nature’s dominion.

                                     the victim has no tongue

 Background:

I am a whore’s unwanted bastard.

I have no inkling of who fathered me and I have no reason to find him either. I have a collective loathing and ill will for the ones who gave me life -- explicitly for bringing me into a civilization so indifferent and bleak.

there's no light, shut in

on that morning of my 12th year.
a kitten on the rare side,

for me, a vegetarian type.

I was born in the month of March during the Dragon Year of 1988. My whore of a mother raised me for the first 5 years of my life. Not that her being a whore is anything bad, I should know -- I’ve been one once. Essentially all she did was give me a rats’ warren of a room to call my own in a dingy apartment in the poorest section of Hong Kong and the occasional, somewhat filling meal.

Not long after I had turned two and had just begun to speak, I began to tell my mother about the things I had seen all my life and she would always tell me to be quiet and stop speaking nonsense. I told her about the scary ones, the shining ones, and even the pale ones that I saw everywhere I looked.

It would seem, that as a young child I could see the beings of other realms that lived along side us humans. It would seem that I had friends afterall, even if they weren't human or even nice all the time.

Soon after my fifth birthday, my life changed dramatically.

          Father, Mother

                    I dyed them red,

                             My cut, grow deeper

and deeper and deeper

 It happened while I was playing tag in the streets with the other unasked for offspring of local whores, strange men in black cars with black suits came to talk to my mom. I eventually learned just what the conversation was about and just how much it had to do with me.
Not long after the men arrived the returned to where I played and grabbed me by arms with bruising strength. I was loaded into one of the black cars and taken away that very day to a dim, seedy basement where people poked and prodded and measured me until I truly felt like cattle on a farm. It was there that I was first acquainted with pain, pleasure, desire, hunger, wantonness, and servility. It was in that dark and dank basement that I learned about the starkness of reality and woke up from my juvenile naiveté.

Moreover, I welcomed the degradation and the bondage as if it worth cleansing me of my mother’s faults and blood in my veins.  

bound by the crowds of people,

I feel lonely, unable to do anything
Tomorrow may never come again,

night of my 16th Year

It would seem that my mother, the woman who birthed me, had actually sold me off for an ample amount of quick cash. All so she could set herself up some place proper where she didn’t have to whore herself out just to get money for her addictions or her booze. Imagine that.

Damn whore. 

Night is scary, night is cold,

give myself over to the movements of the night.
Tomorrow may never come again,

Spring of my 16th Year

While various individuals were training me in subservience and pain tolerance, I awakened the full extent of my unique abilities. If I listened thoroughly, I could hear traces of words and phrases that weren’t spoken but thought. In addition, my sight had matured and I had refined it to where I could interact as an equal with "beings" from the spiritual planes and learn things from them. I also learned how to call upon or banish them, either from listening to them or to their enemies. If I concentrated a lot in meditation, I could for the most part take myself -- my mind -- away from my body. These secrets I kept to myself since it was all about me and I had no one else to talk to. But I'm sure thatat least a few others had some knowledge 

I guess if you were to start hearing voices in your head and no ones speaking it would usually signify that you’ve just fallen off the dead end. Not with me. I loved that I heard the voices; I loved that only I could hear them.

 I make myself quiet,

I close my eyes,

and envision the faces

Before long, I was ready for the selling block as the perfect receptacle for sadomasochists, as I healed cleanly and quickly and I loved the feel of my skin being burned with a whip or the cool touch of a scalpel’s razor-fine blade. However, it would seem that my flesh-peddler, a handsome hedonist that went by the name Luci, had something else in my mind for my innocent beauty.

Instead, after my 8^th birthday, I was sent to a nearby brothel where I was to learn the arts of an entertainer. I was taught how to walk, how to act docile and meek, how to attract patrons and keep them, how to dance, how to play a pipa, a Chinese lute. However, most importantly I was taught how to disappear in plain view, and how to be silent and scrupulous. I didn't mind the brothel so much and I learned all the brothel ladies could teach diligently and meticulously.

It was while training to become an entertainer that I met my first real friend. He was the son of one of the whores that enjoyed being dominated, and he was a year older than me. Everyone called him Ma Zhi-long. We were close in our friendship, well, as close as two unwanted kids of prostitutes could be while growing up in a whorehouse.

And soon, I was an adept at the tender age of 12 years old.

 of my Mother and Father
no matter how much I smile,

or cry I can't go back.

With my education now concluded, I was finally sent to the slave auctions but again my flesh peddler intervened and decided I'd be a good addition to his triad -- Trail of the Lost Ghost.

In my new “home” and with my new “family, again appraised and scrutinized thoroughly by my new owners and offered a new life and a choice. Not long after my rigorous and abusive training in the arts of sexual sadomasochism and other added teachings commenced. In addition to the espionage training, I was given over to a master of Kempo martial arts to become a decent fighter as well as Wing Chun. 

I say goodbye to the cold night

my tears dry out, I cut my wrist

 That was three years ago.

I am now a very talented, if jaded, sixteen year old. I have an unusual taste for pain, both self-inflicted and caused by others. I have perfected the skills of submissiveness and obedience. I am an adept spy as well as a proficient and precise fighter. I am skilled in the age-old ways of the “Shanghai Flowers.” Moreover, the some knowledge of computer programming and hardware is mine too through tinkering with technical components and codings.  

Tomorrow may never come again,

the Spring of my 16th year.

 I am a woman of knowledge beauty. Given the capacity to bear tremendous pain of torture and to dissect the juiciest secrets without effort, I now excel at my chosen profession as a spy.

Lyrics from Kyo (Dir en grey) :: "304goushitsu, Shita to Yoru"  

Activities:

I am a sexual masochist. In other words, I love sex that involves me being beaten, humiliated, bound or tortured by another.

Want to join me? Call me.

I also enjoy computers and programming, as they are one of my pseudo careers, as well as working as a hostess at a club part-time (for the kicks). I appreciate music in any form -- vocal, instrumental, or written.

Moreover, as for my favorite places to go party or relax... Well, it’s just none of your damn business.

Strengths/ Weaknesses:

 I am independent. I am ambitious. I am capable and intelligent. I am multilingual. I can kick your ass in a fight. I am immune to any pain you could cause me. I am artistically and musically inclined. I am full of guile and cunning.

I can be callous and inconsiderate. I can be courteous and genial. I can be a cold-hearted bitch and egotistical. I can be submissive and subservient. I can be your anything and everything.

I am reluctant to trust others. I despise close-minded people. I am a masochistic nymphomaniac. I am an insomniac at times. I am sometimes flippant and impetuous.

Motivations/

Goals:

To find a sadistic bastard to compliment my sexual masochism.

To become a spy that is worthy of my training and my triad “family.”

To work my way up the leadership ladder… eventually.

Attitude

“Ordinary. The kind of beautiful, dangerous ordinary that you just can't leave alone. Like an angel from the underworld. Or a devil from Paradise.”

““Survival of the fittest is the law of nature. We deceive or we are deceived. Thus, we flourish or perish. Nothing good ever happened to me when I trusted others. That is the lesson. “