information

All canon auditions will be in this thread, fill out the form below and reply! It's that simple.

Character Name:
Face Claim:
RP Sample: as that character

Character Name: Faith Lehane
Face Claim: Eliza Dushku
RP Sample: She woke up with a groan and raised a hand to her head. Rubbing at her face she stopped, and her brow furrowed. Why was there no beeping? You know, that incessant sound permeating through the hospital room? And why wasn't she sore and weak? She felt. . . fine. That was really odd. Considering she had gotten gutted by her own knife. Oh man, she wasn't going to live that down. Sitting up slowly she glanced around.

This was a bedroom. Like, a normal bedroom. Like in a house. Hearing a knock at the door she jumped and reached for, damn, no weapons!

"Faith! You're going to be late. If you plan on staying here and going to school you need to get a move on in the mornings! And not stay up too late. Slaying is no excuse!" Joyce poked her head in and smiled before heading back down the hall.

Faith blinked. School? Living here? Okay this had to be a dream. Of some sort. Okay so she'd admit a bit of jealousy for that. B had an awesome mom,and a real life. Something she could only dream about. Shrugging her shoulders she hopped out of bed and went to the closet. Nice clothes, her style too. Okay toned down a bit but not all prissy stick up your ass like Bs. So definitely hers.

`accepted

Character Name: Spike.
Face Claim: James Marsters.
RP Sample: "What the soddin' hell is goin' on 'round here? Whole bloody town's gone crazy!" The disjointed north-london accent echoed around the derelict warehouse, causing the young girl tied to the table to cry out in alarm. It wasn't until a few seconds later that the owner of the voice was introduced to the 'sacrifice', and her very first impression of the bloodthirsty vampire was that of the warehouse door flying from its hinges and dusting the nearest sentry. "Sorry, luv. Just can't get the staff anymore. Name's Spike, no doubt you've 'eard about me." The man murmured, studying the remains of his 'staff' with the toe of a heavy doc-martin, simultaneously bringing up an ivory hand to scratch at his bleach-blond hair.

"Dun tell me, you came 'ere looking for a bit of fun with Tom over there?" Spike inclined his head towards the vampire-cum-Jock stood eargerly by the table, who bared his fangs in response. "Unbeknowst to you, of course, Tom 'ad pretty much the same thing planned. 'Cept, his version of fun ain't exactly what you were looking for. Wha' a shame." He belied this notion with a small smirk, shrugging off his leather duster and discarding it over the back of a chair. "Now, I'm in a bit of a patch, if you dun mind me sayin'. Y'see, if you scream too loudly, you might wake the missus, and she can get pretty bitchy if she ain't had enough rest. And, suffice to say it will be you she comes down on. So 'ows about we make this nice and quick, hmm?"

Before the young girl could even bat an eyelid, Spike was by her side, Tom forgotten about as the sadistic demon transformed into his true self; Yellow eyes cruel and unblinking as his upper lip curled over a pair of deadly canines. "G'night, Princess."

'accepted

Character Name:Xander Harris
Face Claim:Nicholas Brendon
RP Sample:
Virginity was a fragile thing. Your hand obviously didn't count and by the sounds of it, someone elses' didn't either. You actually had to be with someone else, but the worst part? It didn't even have to be consensual. The day that Faith took him still haunted him, why hadn't he been allowed to share that with someone that would at least appreciate who he was after wards, not just making him feel like he was a little boy at the hands of a damn goddess! He shook it off, sitting up slowly. It was odd to still have dreams about certain people. At least the one with Willow had stopped venturing into his brain, that one was good, and at the same time it was a nightmare.

Things seemed a little different, but also the same? What the hell was going on these days? Probably something that went 'Grr' in the night. A quick rubdown of the end of his nose before looking at the clock. 9 minutes until first period started. Did he rush and panic? Not exactly. A soft bit of laughter came off the young man's lips, "Xander Harris, you are so not passing." And the thought didn't scare him one bit. Rolling out of bed and hopping into a pair of pants, he headed out.

The young man would likely only be a few minutes late but still, it was the fact that he didn't rush. That he didn't run that would have driven Willow crazy. His phone started to buzz in his right pocket and he shook his head slowly. He already knew it was Willow with her daily 'where the heck are you' speech. Something he wasn't exactly in the mood to hear. He had been up all night playing video games, what did it matter if he was a few minutes late for school?

It wasn't like they knew how to get passed the 12th level... That was something he had to do for himself. And he was damn proud of his achievement.

Welcome to Carnival of Souls! We are glad to have you and hope you enjoy your time with us! Please make sure to post your face claim!

Character Name: Buffy Summers
Face Claim: Sarah Michelle Gellar
RP Sample: It was warm, wherever she was. Warm… and peaceful, like a warm bath that drove all the cares and anxieties from your mind, eased the stresses and tensions from your body, allowing you to float in a sea of tranquility, holding the darkness of earth at bay. Only, this bath would never come to an end; she would never have to get up and face the darkness that lurked around every corner. She would never have to fight and bleed and cry and be afraid; never again. There was no darkness here, only peace and light. Buffy Summers wasn’t sure where, exactly, ‘here’ was, but she thought it was heaven, or something very close to it. She had never heard of a hell dimension where there was nothing but love and serenity, warmth and comfort. This was a different eternity than Angel had faced, when she had been forced to send him to hell to save the rest of the world.

It was strange, she thought now (if it could really be called thinking; it was more like these feelings simply existed, less as words and more as simple, unadulterated emotion), but pondering her life, looking at the memories she had been accumulating since birth… none of it inspired any pain, nor any longing or regret. Not when she pictured Angel when he was Angelus, torturing her and tormenting her as he had his many victims before he had been cursed with a soul. Not when she saw in his eyes that Willow had returned his soul to him, and knew that he had to die. Not when she saw Faith shooting him in the back, the arrow tipped with poison that had come close to killing him, and then nearly her when she couldn’t bring Faith to him for her blood. It was simply knowledge, pure and plain, and while she could remember the pain and anguish she had felt, it didn’t resonate through her being, as it did to her in life. When she was alive, she hadn’t been able to think about Angel without remembering the horror and the pain, though the good was there too, the love, the passion. But always she would remember that this passion had broken his curse, turned him into a monster, and the cycle of pain would begin anew. But not here.

Here, she was detached, knowing that everything was well, everything had turned out for the best. She would never have to worry about pain again, and she would never have to relive it. With time on earth her wounds might have healed, but here they were gone as though they had never been, leaving no scar behind. And she was at peace, floating, looking at her past and knowing that everything was for the best, for her and everyone else. Her friends would be fine; they would mourn and then heal, and remember her, and how she had loved each and every one of them… and they would be happy.

Buffy didn’t know how long she had been in heaven, in a state of pure bliss and perfection; it could have been hours, it could have been centuries—time meant nothing, where she was. And it would have continued to mean nothing; an eternity might have passed, and she would never have known. Only… suddenly, things weren’t perfect. Something was wrong… something was off. She felt a powerful, all-consuming pull on her essence, and her soul quivered in fear. Something dreadful was happening, something unnatural and dark. Pain was shooting through her being, though she had no defined body in this dimension. Emotions, raw and wild, were coursing through her, things she hadn’t felt since her death. She felt the warmth, the peace, the utter happiness slipping away, as though she were being forcefully torn out of this place, this heaven with which her soul had been gifted. She tried to resist, tried to cling to what was right and natural. She was dead, and so it was supposed to stay, but something was taking it away from her. She could hear words resounding throughout her increasingly clear mind—”Osiris, let her cross over!” The words were filled with power, and they shook the very foundations of this place where she had been resting. They took her hold on death and destroyed it in a swift blow. And then everything went black…

Buffy’s eyes opened, and immediately she knew that the peace was gone, her heaven had deserted her, left her in a human body, left her with pain that was physical, emotional, and mental. Her soul was still writhing from the torment it had endured, being ripped from its place of happiness to this strange, alien world. And then Buffy’s sight came—only it was pitch black. Her old Slayer senses were returning, though her vision was fuzzy and she found it hard to focus. She was in a box, something sealed and padded. Her mind, still befuddled from the change of dimensions, couldn’t grasp where she was. All she knew was that suddenly she needed oxygen, and there was a dwindling supply.

Panic gripped her then, as she lifted her hands (so heavy, after having been weightless for so long) and pushed against the top of her enclosure. It wouldn’t budge, and her strength was not at its peak. She pushed as hard as she could, with what little room she had (for she was lying flat on her back, and the top of the container that trapped her was maybe one and a half feet above her, at most), though still nothing happened. She dug her fingers into the soft padding that lined her prison and began pulling, ripping it away and trying to get to the wood beneath it. Her strength was returning, though sparingly, and she felt her muscles begin to burn as she began using up the last of the oxygen in the… coffin? Vampires escaped from coffins and burial all the time, but then… they didn’t need air, and Buffy did. Her breath was coming in quick, short gasps, a strange keening sound, a cross between a whimper and a scream filling the small space—coming from her own mouth, she realized with a start.

Her prying fingers finally found the wood of the coffin and searched for any crack or crevice, anything that she could pull. Her fingernails were soon cracked and bleeding, her hands throbbing with pain, muscles stinging from the exertion. The panic was escalating—Buffy could feel her lungs struggle to get enough air to her bloodstream to feed her muscle and her brain, she could feel her heart throbbing with the effort of keeping her blood moving, when there wasn’t enough oxygen to go around. The dirt only made things worse, though she could finally begin to dig her way out. Her knuckles began to bleed as they scraped against the rocky soil, but she took no notice—she was finally going to reach air, which her body was desperately screaming for.

Her hands broke through the packed dirt, and Buffy dragged herself halfway out of the ground, gasping for breath, drawing deep lungfuls of the sweet, fresh air, releasing it in quick, short bursts. A few moments later, she pulled herself the rest of the way from the ground and stood, shaky on her feet, though steady enough to stand on her own, and to walk. Her vision was still blurry and unreliable, but she turned to look at the space where she had been buried and saw a headstone with her own name engraved upon it. She turned and ran, then, trying to escape the inescapable; she was back, though she couldn’t admit it, not yet. Why was she here? What had happened to her?

Who would be cruel enough to bring her here?

Welcome to Carnival of Souls! We are glad to have you and hope you enjoy your time with us! Please make sure to post your face claim!