Post by Envy on Jun 19, 2006 14:21:14 GMT 12
[Name >> Mary "Nyx" Perkins
[Age >> 15
[Gender >> Female
[Tribe >> Cigarettes
[Rank >> Commoner
[Nationality >> English
[Politics >> If you want things done right you have to do them yourself, no?
[Romantic orientation >> Straight
[Appearance >> Mary, or Nyx--she enjoys being known by the same name as the Greed goddess of the night--is a goth and quite proud of it. Not emo, but real goth, with a pale-as-death complexion and blonde hair dyed black, though the platinum color she is so deeply ashamed of has grown a fair amount since she first arrived in the city two months prior. This greasy hair reaches a few inches past her shoulders and has been crudely cut by none other than Nyx herself. Not the goddess, the freaky goth girl. Her wardrobe is all black, all the time. From her too-big, knee-high black jungle boots to the brandless tuque she always wears even though it appears to be too small and always about to slip off her head if she doesn't pull it down. She can usually be found wearing various types of black shorts along with fishnet stockings; the boy scout in her prohibits her from wearing skirts or anything that makes running difficult. Speaking of which, aside from her vast knowledge of death-related topics, Nyx has a talent for running. Her legs are long and when she was younger she was always clumsy, tripping over her own feet. Over the years she got used to her long legs, which she takes great pride in, showing them off with the self-inflicted scar tatoos of skulls, thorns and bloodied roses. They are messy with rigid edges due to the patterns projected onto herself with overheads and the like; Nyx was never much of an artist.
[Attitude >> As her label implies, Nyx is not much of a people person. She will go out of her way to break every rule she does not belive in, which in the past has resulted in many months of community work and juvenille detention. Working with others is a big no for her and she is very reluctant to do so. When she find herself in a situation where teamwork is necessary Nyx feels that she must be in charge and things must be done her way. She is prone to sudden mood swings, usually caused by people not agreeing with her. The goth's usual mood is neutural or angry. Often when Nyx is sad it is mistaken for anger; she feels the need to do something about it when things go wrong with other people. She isn't such a bad person, even though her appearance and criminal record say otherwise. Not bad, just a little odd and with anger management issues. Nyx is also obsessed with death, as the dark name might imply. She is an expert on all things dead and supernatural occurances. It was partly because of this and also because of an insanely boring grandmother that Nyx decided to come to New York. She is terribly impulsive and does many spurr-of-the-moment things, things that often cause her to end up in the backs of police cars. Nyx's sharp tongue and hatred for anyone who will not listen to her every word as if they were the words of a true goddess is the cause of her lack of friends.
[Notable History >> Born of two English immigrants, Mary and her little brother Ryan were born and raised in a suburb of New York. Their parents split a year after Ryan's birth and both children lived with their mother for the years that followed. Their mother worked as a reporter, though she wasn't doing very well at it. Finally she gave up on trying to support her family with her measly paycheck and sent her children to live with their grandmother in London England while she returned to school in New York.
Nyx was very reluctant to go; her very few friends all lived in that little town and she hated the thought of leaving them, but in the end she did and after a few months they drifted apart, barely calling each other any more until the phone never rang for Nyx. To make matters worse, her grandmother was the most boring lady on Earth. When she was not ranting and raving due to overdosing on her meds she was snoring. It was virtually impossible for anyone to sleep though that, which added big dark circles under the eyes to Nyx's gothic appearance. And as if that wasn't bad enough then came the Black Plague. Nyx was heartborken and enraged. Having a sensible conversation with her was entierly impossible until reports started being shown on TV and writen in the papers about the Advent Children, which gave Nyx and idea. She started working, several jobs a day and on the rare occasion that she was home she told Ryan that they were leaving England. Finally.
One Month Ago
As she stepped out of the airport she raised one arm to her forhead, sheilding her eyes from the blinding sunlight. She looked down and smiled at the gaping ten year old standing beside her. She lay a gloved hand on his blonde head and messed up his short blonde hair which fell back into place as soon as his sister's hand was removed. "Where are we?" He asked, his awed voice accented slightly.
"Newark," Replied Nyx, fingering the roadmap in one of the large pockets of the baggy black shorts she was wearing. They reached down to her knees, their hems meeting Nyx's big black jungle boots. She withdrew the map and unfolded it, chewing on her lower lip as she traced the desiered route with her finger. "I guess we want to get to Pulaski and that should take us to highway seventy-eight..." Her voice trailed off and she folded the map back up, taking several tries to get it right.
"And then we're in?" Asked Ryan, bright blue eyes regarding his sister curiously.
A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Yah, into the city of the dead." Her fingertips ran over the back of his hand and he grabbed hers. Starting towards the parking lot Nyx's grin grew. "But first we need a car."
The car the siblings stole was a sleek black sports car, chosen because of it's undeniable coolness, though they soon found out that it would not look that way for long if Nyx's driving skills were anything to judge by. Every time they turned they hit--or skimmed, if they were lucky--something and it was soon discovered that hotwiring a car was much easier than driving one. This was probably because Nyx had not spent hours practicing driving as she had hotwiring. It worked (almost) flawlessly every time and this time the siblings' only problem was not killing anyone on the way. This wasn't all that difficult a task and by the time they arrived on highway 78 they were leaning back in their leather-covered seats with the radio blasting heavy metal along to which Ryan was attempting to sing. The key word there being "attempting".
Laughing, Nyx sang too and soon they were getting odd looks from the many drivers swerving fearfully out of their way.
"Roadtrips this fun shouldn't be legal!" Shouted Ryan over the music that his sister was still singing to, getting every note wrong.
Narrowly missing the SUV in front of her, Nyx replied, "It isn't!"
Ditching the car a few blocks back, the pair walked to a cheap hotel that left only a short stretch between themselves and their destination. Deciding that they wouldn't need any more money, the twosome had a feast for breakfast the next morning and stole another car, spending the rest of the drive in a similar way as the day before. When they arrived at the Razorwire Fence, Nyx took a hatchet from the pack she'd been carrying around. Along with the hatchet she'd packed food, a few changes of clothes and a pocket knife in case the other children caused her and Ryan any trouble. She moved the knife to her pocket and swung at the fence with the hatchet. It wasn't long before they were though and Nyx discarded the weapon, despite Ryan's suggestions that they should keep it.
"It's too heavy for me to carry around everywhere. I have a knife anyways. Believe it or not, I am not entierly unprepared," She snapped at her brother.
But the knife could not protect them from what happened a few days later.
Three Weeks Ago
Of the few people they'd seen since arriving in New York only a few had seen them. Well, mostly they'd just seen Ryan. Even with his bright blonde hair covered with a black tuque Nyx had found for him he was a lot more noticable, due to his lack of sneaking skills. Nyx spent a lot of time standing guard at night with her knife at ready just in case someone tried to hurt him. Even though she'd seen other children attacked and some killed she'd take what the Advent Children called New Pork over London any day.
That is, until they were discovered.
It was really Nyx's dault that it happened; she left Ryan alone in their little encampment. It was in the basement of a partially collapsed house. The stairs down to the basement were entierly caved in, but from outside one could crawl in through a broken window that lead down into pitch blackness. Nyx would not let the lights go on in that room so no one could tell how far the drop was if they slipped in through the window and if there were no lights how was anyone to know there were two kids living there? Flashlights and battery-operated lamps were used in the basement's other rooms.
So Nyx left in search of the school her mother had been attending. It was a law school with dorms and in one of those dorms Nyx was sure that there was something left from her mother and whatever it happened to be, Nyx wanted it.
She spent all day searching the building but found no evidence of her mother. Finally an exhausted and frustrated Nyx retrned to her hideout, only to find a Wildcat standing in the well-lit enterance room that Ryan had been investigating, only when Nyx got there his back was against the Wildcat's chest and a knife to his throat.
"Bitch!" Howled Nyx, taking the knife from her pocket and charging the girl attacking her brother. The Wildcat calmly slit his throat and went for Nyx, who was shocked that a girl younger than herself could kill someone without any remorse. The goth sliced at her, but the Wildcat girl ducked under her arm, knocking her legs out from underneath her. A hiking boot landed on Nyx's stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. "Damn..." She growled, slicing the girl's ankle. She flinched, but that was all. The girl leaned down so that she was almost sitting on top of Nyx and held the knife to the pale girl's throat. Nyx, out of all other options, chose to spit in the Wildcat's face. Disgusted, she wiped away the salaiva running down her cheek with the back of her hand. It was because of this that when Nyx lurched upwards she fell, caught off guard.
"Damn you!" Howled the Wildcat, grabbing at Nyx's ankle with her free hand. Nyx half-jumped and half-fell (thanks to the white-knuckled hand grasping her ankle) next to one of the lamps Ryan had set up around the room. Desperately she took hold of it and swung it through the air. It collided with the Wildcat's face with a sickening crack followed by blood spilling from the feral girl's broken nose. Her eyes blazed with furry that frightened Nyx. She glanced around, realizing that the Wildcat was still holding her and that there were no potential weapons within' arm's length. This left her one option; hand to hand combat.
Nyx felt the hand release her and a moment later the bloody girl was on her back with her switchblade knife. The goth attempted to elbow her attacker who was skinnier and impossible to hit from the side. Rolling onto her back, Nyx prayed that the knife was not positioned above her neck.
It was.
She felt the metal, warmed by Ryan's blood, cut through her flesh. Grunting with pain, Nyx raised herself up a little and then fell back down on the Wildcat whose head gave a satisfactory thump against the concrete floor. Nyx then rolled off of her and stumbled to her feet. For a moment the Wildcat was dazed and when she finally managed to sit up it was only to get a facefull of Nyx's jungle boot. A few more and she was out like a light, save for the fact that most lights are not covered with bruises when they go off.
For a moment Nyx was scared that she had killed the other girl. Despite her obsession with death, Nyx was no murderer. She checked her pulse, or tried to. She gave up finding a pulse when she saw the girl's chest rising and falling with her breathing. As soon as she was sure she hadn't killed anyone, Nyx launched herself at the window, pulling herself out into the fading sunlight. She crawled over to a patch of undergrowth around the side of the house and emptied her stomach there.
Ryan was dead... Dead...
"No-" Her moan was cut short when her stomach lurched again. Tears fell down her face and she closed her eyes, wiping them with the back of her hand. "No, no, no..."
Two Weeks, Three Days Ago
After that she didn't sleep, just wandered around with the Wildcat's knife and the hat she'd taken from her brother. She didn't eat and knew she couldn't if she tried. No one she knew had ever died before. Well, her mother had but no one right before her eyes.
She was leaning back against the razorwire fence, considering taking a car and leaving the city. She was just sitting there with her eyes closed on the edge of sleep when someone kicked her shin and asked, "Hey, are you dead?"
Nyx opened her eyes and blinked. There was still dried blood caking the back of her neck and she hadn't washed since the incident. The way she was curled up, she supposed she did look dead. "No," She spat, glaring at the boy standing over her. He was about a year or two younger than her, his face decorated with white face paint.
"Name then?" He appeared to be enjoying this, even though Nyx was glaring at him.
"Nyx," She spat back, shaking her leg because he was trying his best to stand on it, even jumping around when he almost fell off. The idiot.
He nodded and looked at her, studying her face under the grime it had collected. "Tribe?"
"Don't have one."
"Do now." She shook him off and stood up. He seemed surprised to find that she was taller than him by a few inches but did not step down. "Cigarettes."
"What?"
"Cigarettes."
Groaning, Nyx rolled her eyes. She was sure she'd heard someone talking about the Cigaretted before, though at that time she assumed they were talking about the actual objects. But really, who called their tribe Cigarettes anyways? "Just as long as you're not in charge."
[Reputation >> For disobeying rules and refusing to work as a team as well as her easily sparked temper.
