Post by facemyfire on May 13, 2009 20:45:19 GMT -5
Behind The Mask
OOC Name: Cheryl.
Gender: Female.
Other Characters: None.
Basic Information
Name: Jezebel Allegra Morgan
Aliases: Natalya Morgaine (Legally changed to)
Actual Age: 24.
Appearing Age: 24.
Gender: Female.
Species: Slayer/Necromancer
Approx. Birth Date: July 4, 1985.
Status:(straight, Gay, Bi-sexual) Straight.
Occupation: Vampire Hunter.
Appearance
Height: 5'5''
Hair: (Color & Style) Long and Brown
Eyes: Brown.
Skin: Creamy tan.
Body Type: Petite.
Skin Markings: (Tattoos & Piercings) None.
Celebrity Claim: Natalia Livingston.
Picture
Background Information
Personality: Armed and dangerous.
Weakness: (At Least 4)
Strengths: (At Least 4)
Family: Deceased.
Friends: Close.
Enemies: Closer.
Lover: None.
Extra Powers:
Character History: (Should Be As Long As Your Age)
I was born to Antonio and Deanna Morgan in the Summer of 1985 in a small town in upstate New York. Basically, you take a pinch of my mother and a liberal dash of my father and well, here I am. Anyone who was there would have told you that I was spunky, a beautiful child, but what they wouldn't have been able to tell you was that I harbored a secret. My mother was born to a very powerful witch and warlock, and though her powers bordered on the extreme, she refused to walk the same path that had gotten her own parents killed. So instead, she kept them hidden, refusing to use or even acknowledge that they existed. Because of it, no one knew the skills or talents she had, the powers she possessed, therefore trying to use her own experiences as a guide has been pretty obsolete.
Then there was my father. He was known as Tonio to his friends and coworkers and was a Necromancer. If you don't know what that is, look it up. It was something he was born with, even though no one in his family before him had ever shown the symptoms. It wasn't something he could control either. He had no choice. Whether he wanted to or not, the extent of his power reached out, raising the dead with or without his cooperation. Have you ever woken up to the sound of shuffling feet and turned on the light to find the walking dead at the foot of your bed? Talk about a wake up call. Despite the fact that is scared the shit out of my mother, she loved him in spite of it, and maybe that was what got her killed in the end.
The last day of their lives, or what I could remember of it, happened when I was 15. I remember waking up in the middle of a dream, you know, one of those nightmares that you could have sworn was real? Only this time, it was and every night to this day, those memories haunt me. They are the reason why I am who I am. Why I don't date vampires, I kill them. At the time, they traveled in packs, or kisses, whatever you wanted to call them. Vampire, the four- or seven letter word that inspired both a sense of fear, and excitement into most ordinary folk. But for me, it was disgust, anger, resentment. Revenge. Of course, I killed by the book... most of the time.
The night of January 7, 2000., I had awoken to the sounds of screams coming from my parents bedroom. I'd never heard them fight before and violence in my life was pretty much nonexistent, so I knew something was wrong. Without turning on the light, I had managed to make it down the hallway to their room before the smell stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't just the scent of blood or viscera that had me gagging and breaking out in a cold sweat, it was the smell of death that only a vampire could give. Even in the darkness of the night, I could see the brightness of their fangs, the paleness of their skin all but glowing in the dark. I don't know how they had gotten in without being invited, but they did and there they were, chins dripping with the metallic scent of my parents blood.
Something inside of me, in seeing the gruesome remains of my parents, had snapped. I remember hearing screams, not even realizing they had been coming from my own mouth until I'd had to pause to take in more breath. They had turned on me then, trapping me into a corner between the wall in the closet. I had felt claustrophobia creeping over me, still do every now and again, as I raised my arms, prepared to feel the same piercing pain my parents had. But then, something happened. The pain never came. Instead I was met with a deadly silence, as if the room was no longer occupied. When I dared to open my eyes, my breathing was the only thing I could hear above the sound of dripping blood. But I wasn't alone. Three vampires stood above me, unmoving, theirs eyes unseeing, dilated orbs. If they had souls, I would have guessed they'd escaped, but that wasn't the case.
When I stood, scrambling across the room to get away, they remained where they were, as if waiting for direction. "Leave me alone!" I remember crying into the darkness, but there they remained. As the terror of the moment passed and they still had yet to kill me, I became curious. Of course, I didn't get any closer, but I did manage to speak. Brownie points for me. But, it was by sheer happenstance that I told them to go away that they started to move towards the door, as if taking my warning literally. Then, when I told them to stop, and even to stand on one foot and rub their stomach, (hey, I was still young) I knew something had happened. Though I didn't know what it was, I knew enough about vampires to know it had never happened before.
By the time the light of dawn had crept across the front lawn, I was no longer as scared of the monsters as I should have been. They had killed my parents and while their loss hit me hard after the fact, seeing how weak these creatures became under my guidance turned it amusing, rather than terrifying. The way I saw it, that night I was in charge and by some weird ass turn of events, I had to set an example.
Almost ten years after the death of my parents, I never could recreate that moment, where I had unconsciously gained control of a vampire. No, not just one. Three. The semantics of it weren't entirely impossible. Hell, they were dead after all, but for someone so young, so unbroken in their skills and powers to do something like that... let's just say it wasn't good. Come to find out, it wasn't just dangerous, it was deadly. That night, my parents had died and left me with a legacy, a series of gifts I neither wanted, nor expected. But unlike them, I didn't have a choice. There was no hiding from what I had to do, the revenge I had to seek. Vampires had destroyed the lives of Antonio and Deanna and in turn, I would destroy theirs. It was why I had been forced to change my name. After all, single-handedly holding, then sending three vampires to a sunlit death was bound to create some unwanted attention. So, before their ashes had been swept clear of the street, I was no longer known as Jezebel Morgan. Instead, I was Natalya Morgaine, (named after my great-aunt, I think) Vampire Hunter.
For the first five years after my parent's death, I pushed myself to my limit. Everyday I devoted myself to learning everything there was to know about my newfound enemies, eventually graduating early from NYU with a degree in the Preternatural, Biology, and Meta Physics. Hey, it pays to be prepared. But, even knowledge cannot save you when you're knee deep in the undead. In addition, I've had to train myself, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally as well. I was fit, but being able to out run the bad guys only gets you so far. No, instead I've had to embrace the powers my parent's passed down to me. It's a shame they couldn't be nice about it. Not that I should even mention it, but even after almost ten years, I've still not quite been able figure them all out. If you won't tell, I won't.
So there's my alter ego, I guess you could say. Chick with a secret, girl with a grudge, however you wanted to put it. By day, however, I still had to make a living, and boy oh boy did I hate my job. Most of the time. Sometimes. Okay, damn it, it worked out well. I'm a private investigator, though that title is more suited to people who lounge about in unmarked cars surrounded by takeout containers, half-packs of cigarettes, and stale coffee. The rest, I could probably live with, but the coffee... Aww man, what a waste. Instead, I considered myself an opportunist. (I call it as I see it.) Either way, Massacre Harbor, now one of the largest Vampire occupied cities in the country, was crawling with people itching to find out the truth. That's where I come in. Cheating spouse? If you really want to know. Tailing? Don't let the door hit you on the way out. A vampire that needs to be staked? I'm your girl. It was all a matter of who the clientele was.
I didn't need an office, hell, I don't even need a calling card. Word of mouth is enough, or at least it should be. But, the day I managed to snag myself a shiny new license, complete with badge and gun (okay, it wasn't state issued, but good enough for me), I was in business. (And wound up getting a brand spanking new stack of cards anyway). I had more than enough money leftover from my parent's trust to buy a brand new Black Expedition and a condo on the Upper East Side, but other than that, the rest was tucked away for a rainy day.
So, here I am, just your everyday average girl (Yeah, right) in the middle of the most vampire infested hell hole known to man, looking to pick a fight. Okay, so maybe my plans needed a little tweaking, but an least the ambition was there. I knew Massacre Harbor wouldn't be like New York, where the vampires were few and far between and more than likely were afraid of anything that resembled a holy object. No, I knew it would be different, and damn it, if I didn't have to change my tactics, develop a whole new system. I guess now I'd have to learn to shoot first, and ask questions later.
Role Play Sample: (Should be written as the character you are applying for, not taken from another site.)
I walk into the darkened interior of the club, already feeling a sense of claustrophobia envelope me from the press of bodies jammed together like cans of sardines. I resisted the urge to fire a warning shot at the D.J, just to tell him that the rap crap he was playing was too damn loud. I refrained. Heh, who says I have no self control? The deeper into the room I walked, the more I hated it. The place wreaked of sweat, booze, sex and la de da, vampires. The other scents I could live with, but the coppery scent of death, it really pissed me off. The experts say technically, you can't really smell blood from a distance, but I guess it was an extent of my powers that allowed me to smell it from down the street. Granted, the wind was ripe with it lately, but it was still unmistakable. It also just so happened to be my powers that allowed me to pick out a vampire from a hundred yards, or more. They seemed to be growing lately, so who knew, but for lack of something to say about them, I was damn glad they were around now. Being able to judge a book by it's cover when it came to the bloodsuckers was a hell of a convenience. Maybe I should charge them a small fee.
As the press of bodies at my back spurs me forward, I make my way through the crowd, my tiny, petite frame nearly getting trampled by the mass of drunk party goers. No wonder I didn't drink. With the club, the Black Orchid, being primarily a hot spot for, you guessed it, Vampires, I was on high alert. I didn't spare a glance at the stage, where a scantily clad mistress pranced about, looking not a minute older than the 104 years she was. Yeah, right. Fucking vampires. Why anyone wanted to spend the rest of eternity without a soul was beyond me. Whatever happened to morals? As I move deeper into the gagging atmosphere, I absently wrap my fingers around my mother's cross, the last piece of my parent's I had left. I considered it a reminder, of everything I had lost, and everything I stood to gain by making the vampire world pay. Twisted, I know, but when you spend the first fifteen years of your life living in ignorance of the world around you, the last thing anyone would want is the crash course. After all, people are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.
Halfway to the counter I feel an arm grab me from behind and I spin around in alarm, not knowing who, or what it was; however, in the split second it took me to turn around, I knew he was human. Or, at least close to a human as one could get around here. Something about him screamed half-breed, but the half that wasn't human, was too much out of the scope of my powers to identify. Damn it. I look up and meet his gaze, no longer concerned that I would have to kill the poor bastard. Then again, maybe not. "Hello there, darling," he whispers, and from the smell coming off him, I knew he was drunker than hell. Just peachy. "Let me go," I demand, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp, but despite the fact that I've trained in several types of martial arts, there's still no getting around that little factor known as strength. I hated being small.
He moves closer, obviously trying to pull me away from the crowd and I pull back, nearly ripping my arm of out its socket. Way to kick his ass, Natalya, I tell myself sarcastically. When he doesn't take the hint, I find myself having to resort to alternative measures, but the fact that I didn't reach for my gun gave me an extra brownie point. Instead, I pull my knife from the sheath at the small of my back, pressing it to his side. He stills, his eyes widening and I grin back, glad to have finally gotten his attention. Ah, deflection. I smirk, knowing that the true way to a man's heart was six inches of metal between his ribs. "Let me go, or you'll be on the ground," I repeat in my same, sweet as sin tone. Anyone who ever said I have no patience has never seen me in action. Anyway, he lets go and steps back, holding up his hands with a smirk on his smug face. Bastard. Telling myself to let it go, I turn to head back into the crowd. Damn it, I hate to waste a really good threat. Before I even manage to take half a dozen steps, I hear him move. This time I was ready for him and I swing around just as he tries to grab my hair. Deflecting his attack, I manage to land a solid Palm Heel to his nose.
The crunch of bone under my hand doesn't even make me flinch as I watch him land on the ground with a thud. He deserved it. Kneeling down next to him, I could see that he would be okay, so I toss him a napkin from a nearby waitress and press it (rather roughly) to his nose. "The next time you feel the need to introduce yourself, be a gentleman," I warn him. Standing up, I smile at the crowd surrounding the scene as I stride away. I was still a little disappointed that he wasn't a vampire. Then I would have gotten to kill him. But hey, it was better than nothing. When you need to back up your threat, someone writhing on the floor in pain is almost as good as a body. Sometimes it's better.
OOC Name: Cheryl.
Gender: Female.
Other Characters: None.
Basic Information
Name: Jezebel Allegra Morgan
Aliases: Natalya Morgaine (Legally changed to)
Actual Age: 24.
Appearing Age: 24.
Gender: Female.
Species: Slayer/Necromancer
Approx. Birth Date: July 4, 1985.
Status:(straight, Gay, Bi-sexual) Straight.
Occupation: Vampire Hunter.
Appearance
Height: 5'5''
Hair: (Color & Style) Long and Brown
Eyes: Brown.
Skin: Creamy tan.
Body Type: Petite.
Skin Markings: (Tattoos & Piercings) None.
Celebrity Claim: Natalia Livingston.
Picture
Background Information
Personality: Armed and dangerous.
Weakness: (At Least 4)
- Good coffee
- Diamonds (they aren't a girls best friend for nothing)
- Sarcasm
- Thinking before I speak
Strengths: (At Least 4)
- Religion
- My Right Hook (ie: Training in the Martial Arts and the uses of weaponry)
- Being able to control all forms of the undead through my Necromancy. (Now, if only I could get the sonofabitch to cooperate when it came to vampires.)
- A natural resistance to lycanthropy (Don't ask me how, I don't know.)
Family: Deceased.
Friends: Close.
Enemies: Closer.
Lover: None.
Extra Powers:
- Auspex.
- Fortitude, to some extent.
Character History: (Should Be As Long As Your Age)
I was born to Antonio and Deanna Morgan in the Summer of 1985 in a small town in upstate New York. Basically, you take a pinch of my mother and a liberal dash of my father and well, here I am. Anyone who was there would have told you that I was spunky, a beautiful child, but what they wouldn't have been able to tell you was that I harbored a secret. My mother was born to a very powerful witch and warlock, and though her powers bordered on the extreme, she refused to walk the same path that had gotten her own parents killed. So instead, she kept them hidden, refusing to use or even acknowledge that they existed. Because of it, no one knew the skills or talents she had, the powers she possessed, therefore trying to use her own experiences as a guide has been pretty obsolete.
Then there was my father. He was known as Tonio to his friends and coworkers and was a Necromancer. If you don't know what that is, look it up. It was something he was born with, even though no one in his family before him had ever shown the symptoms. It wasn't something he could control either. He had no choice. Whether he wanted to or not, the extent of his power reached out, raising the dead with or without his cooperation. Have you ever woken up to the sound of shuffling feet and turned on the light to find the walking dead at the foot of your bed? Talk about a wake up call. Despite the fact that is scared the shit out of my mother, she loved him in spite of it, and maybe that was what got her killed in the end.
The last day of their lives, or what I could remember of it, happened when I was 15. I remember waking up in the middle of a dream, you know, one of those nightmares that you could have sworn was real? Only this time, it was and every night to this day, those memories haunt me. They are the reason why I am who I am. Why I don't date vampires, I kill them. At the time, they traveled in packs, or kisses, whatever you wanted to call them. Vampire, the four- or seven letter word that inspired both a sense of fear, and excitement into most ordinary folk. But for me, it was disgust, anger, resentment. Revenge. Of course, I killed by the book... most of the time.
The night of January 7, 2000., I had awoken to the sounds of screams coming from my parents bedroom. I'd never heard them fight before and violence in my life was pretty much nonexistent, so I knew something was wrong. Without turning on the light, I had managed to make it down the hallway to their room before the smell stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't just the scent of blood or viscera that had me gagging and breaking out in a cold sweat, it was the smell of death that only a vampire could give. Even in the darkness of the night, I could see the brightness of their fangs, the paleness of their skin all but glowing in the dark. I don't know how they had gotten in without being invited, but they did and there they were, chins dripping with the metallic scent of my parents blood.
Something inside of me, in seeing the gruesome remains of my parents, had snapped. I remember hearing screams, not even realizing they had been coming from my own mouth until I'd had to pause to take in more breath. They had turned on me then, trapping me into a corner between the wall in the closet. I had felt claustrophobia creeping over me, still do every now and again, as I raised my arms, prepared to feel the same piercing pain my parents had. But then, something happened. The pain never came. Instead I was met with a deadly silence, as if the room was no longer occupied. When I dared to open my eyes, my breathing was the only thing I could hear above the sound of dripping blood. But I wasn't alone. Three vampires stood above me, unmoving, theirs eyes unseeing, dilated orbs. If they had souls, I would have guessed they'd escaped, but that wasn't the case.
When I stood, scrambling across the room to get away, they remained where they were, as if waiting for direction. "Leave me alone!" I remember crying into the darkness, but there they remained. As the terror of the moment passed and they still had yet to kill me, I became curious. Of course, I didn't get any closer, but I did manage to speak. Brownie points for me. But, it was by sheer happenstance that I told them to go away that they started to move towards the door, as if taking my warning literally. Then, when I told them to stop, and even to stand on one foot and rub their stomach, (hey, I was still young) I knew something had happened. Though I didn't know what it was, I knew enough about vampires to know it had never happened before.
By the time the light of dawn had crept across the front lawn, I was no longer as scared of the monsters as I should have been. They had killed my parents and while their loss hit me hard after the fact, seeing how weak these creatures became under my guidance turned it amusing, rather than terrifying. The way I saw it, that night I was in charge and by some weird ass turn of events, I had to set an example.
Almost ten years after the death of my parents, I never could recreate that moment, where I had unconsciously gained control of a vampire. No, not just one. Three. The semantics of it weren't entirely impossible. Hell, they were dead after all, but for someone so young, so unbroken in their skills and powers to do something like that... let's just say it wasn't good. Come to find out, it wasn't just dangerous, it was deadly. That night, my parents had died and left me with a legacy, a series of gifts I neither wanted, nor expected. But unlike them, I didn't have a choice. There was no hiding from what I had to do, the revenge I had to seek. Vampires had destroyed the lives of Antonio and Deanna and in turn, I would destroy theirs. It was why I had been forced to change my name. After all, single-handedly holding, then sending three vampires to a sunlit death was bound to create some unwanted attention. So, before their ashes had been swept clear of the street, I was no longer known as Jezebel Morgan. Instead, I was Natalya Morgaine, (named after my great-aunt, I think) Vampire Hunter.
For the first five years after my parent's death, I pushed myself to my limit. Everyday I devoted myself to learning everything there was to know about my newfound enemies, eventually graduating early from NYU with a degree in the Preternatural, Biology, and Meta Physics. Hey, it pays to be prepared. But, even knowledge cannot save you when you're knee deep in the undead. In addition, I've had to train myself, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally as well. I was fit, but being able to out run the bad guys only gets you so far. No, instead I've had to embrace the powers my parent's passed down to me. It's a shame they couldn't be nice about it. Not that I should even mention it, but even after almost ten years, I've still not quite been able figure them all out. If you won't tell, I won't.
So there's my alter ego, I guess you could say. Chick with a secret, girl with a grudge, however you wanted to put it. By day, however, I still had to make a living, and boy oh boy did I hate my job. Most of the time. Sometimes. Okay, damn it, it worked out well. I'm a private investigator, though that title is more suited to people who lounge about in unmarked cars surrounded by takeout containers, half-packs of cigarettes, and stale coffee. The rest, I could probably live with, but the coffee... Aww man, what a waste. Instead, I considered myself an opportunist. (I call it as I see it.) Either way, Massacre Harbor, now one of the largest Vampire occupied cities in the country, was crawling with people itching to find out the truth. That's where I come in. Cheating spouse? If you really want to know. Tailing? Don't let the door hit you on the way out. A vampire that needs to be staked? I'm your girl. It was all a matter of who the clientele was.
I didn't need an office, hell, I don't even need a calling card. Word of mouth is enough, or at least it should be. But, the day I managed to snag myself a shiny new license, complete with badge and gun (okay, it wasn't state issued, but good enough for me), I was in business. (And wound up getting a brand spanking new stack of cards anyway). I had more than enough money leftover from my parent's trust to buy a brand new Black Expedition and a condo on the Upper East Side, but other than that, the rest was tucked away for a rainy day.
So, here I am, just your everyday average girl (Yeah, right) in the middle of the most vampire infested hell hole known to man, looking to pick a fight. Okay, so maybe my plans needed a little tweaking, but an least the ambition was there. I knew Massacre Harbor wouldn't be like New York, where the vampires were few and far between and more than likely were afraid of anything that resembled a holy object. No, I knew it would be different, and damn it, if I didn't have to change my tactics, develop a whole new system. I guess now I'd have to learn to shoot first, and ask questions later.
Role Play Sample: (Should be written as the character you are applying for, not taken from another site.)
I walk into the darkened interior of the club, already feeling a sense of claustrophobia envelope me from the press of bodies jammed together like cans of sardines. I resisted the urge to fire a warning shot at the D.J, just to tell him that the rap crap he was playing was too damn loud. I refrained. Heh, who says I have no self control? The deeper into the room I walked, the more I hated it. The place wreaked of sweat, booze, sex and la de da, vampires. The other scents I could live with, but the coppery scent of death, it really pissed me off. The experts say technically, you can't really smell blood from a distance, but I guess it was an extent of my powers that allowed me to smell it from down the street. Granted, the wind was ripe with it lately, but it was still unmistakable. It also just so happened to be my powers that allowed me to pick out a vampire from a hundred yards, or more. They seemed to be growing lately, so who knew, but for lack of something to say about them, I was damn glad they were around now. Being able to judge a book by it's cover when it came to the bloodsuckers was a hell of a convenience. Maybe I should charge them a small fee.
As the press of bodies at my back spurs me forward, I make my way through the crowd, my tiny, petite frame nearly getting trampled by the mass of drunk party goers. No wonder I didn't drink. With the club, the Black Orchid, being primarily a hot spot for, you guessed it, Vampires, I was on high alert. I didn't spare a glance at the stage, where a scantily clad mistress pranced about, looking not a minute older than the 104 years she was. Yeah, right. Fucking vampires. Why anyone wanted to spend the rest of eternity without a soul was beyond me. Whatever happened to morals? As I move deeper into the gagging atmosphere, I absently wrap my fingers around my mother's cross, the last piece of my parent's I had left. I considered it a reminder, of everything I had lost, and everything I stood to gain by making the vampire world pay. Twisted, I know, but when you spend the first fifteen years of your life living in ignorance of the world around you, the last thing anyone would want is the crash course. After all, people are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.
Halfway to the counter I feel an arm grab me from behind and I spin around in alarm, not knowing who, or what it was; however, in the split second it took me to turn around, I knew he was human. Or, at least close to a human as one could get around here. Something about him screamed half-breed, but the half that wasn't human, was too much out of the scope of my powers to identify. Damn it. I look up and meet his gaze, no longer concerned that I would have to kill the poor bastard. Then again, maybe not. "Hello there, darling," he whispers, and from the smell coming off him, I knew he was drunker than hell. Just peachy. "Let me go," I demand, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp, but despite the fact that I've trained in several types of martial arts, there's still no getting around that little factor known as strength. I hated being small.
He moves closer, obviously trying to pull me away from the crowd and I pull back, nearly ripping my arm of out its socket. Way to kick his ass, Natalya, I tell myself sarcastically. When he doesn't take the hint, I find myself having to resort to alternative measures, but the fact that I didn't reach for my gun gave me an extra brownie point. Instead, I pull my knife from the sheath at the small of my back, pressing it to his side. He stills, his eyes widening and I grin back, glad to have finally gotten his attention. Ah, deflection. I smirk, knowing that the true way to a man's heart was six inches of metal between his ribs. "Let me go, or you'll be on the ground," I repeat in my same, sweet as sin tone. Anyone who ever said I have no patience has never seen me in action. Anyway, he lets go and steps back, holding up his hands with a smirk on his smug face. Bastard. Telling myself to let it go, I turn to head back into the crowd. Damn it, I hate to waste a really good threat. Before I even manage to take half a dozen steps, I hear him move. This time I was ready for him and I swing around just as he tries to grab my hair. Deflecting his attack, I manage to land a solid Palm Heel to his nose.
The crunch of bone under my hand doesn't even make me flinch as I watch him land on the ground with a thud. He deserved it. Kneeling down next to him, I could see that he would be okay, so I toss him a napkin from a nearby waitress and press it (rather roughly) to his nose. "The next time you feel the need to introduce yourself, be a gentleman," I warn him. Standing up, I smile at the crowd surrounding the scene as I stride away. I was still a little disappointed that he wasn't a vampire. Then I would have gotten to kill him. But hey, it was better than nothing. When you need to back up your threat, someone writhing on the floor in pain is almost as good as a body. Sometimes it's better.
