Age at Death: 21
Born in 1160 in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, I was a slave to a merchant and caught in the cross fire during the Crusade. I nearly died, but an mysterious stranger saved me by giving me the Dark Gift. I had traveled throughout Europe since than. Currently reside in London as a modiste.
(NSFW. This is an independent rp account, I am not Nijah, nor Alexandra Daddario)
Nijah inhaled the cigarette in her hand and let out a puff of smoke. She stared at the mannequin in front of her. It was finally done. She had started before the old vampire went to his coffin and sank deep into slumber, pushing all her other jobs aside in order to get this one done first. She had been so looking forward to this moment, the moment the suit was complete, and the moment when she delivered it to Marius in person.
Now she was not so sure. Not after she made a fool of herself in front of him in the slumbering chamber.
She reached out her hand and ran a hand gently through the collar, feeling the superfine under the pad of her fingertips. Since she was a mortal, the myth of Marius de Romanus had always fascinated her. They were very rare, and the story always surrounded by a great veil of elaborated length. But she had adored them nonetheless. Her infatuation grew when she became a blooddrinker and met Bianca, who had loved the vampire, and still did, if her appearance at the chamber had anything to go by. Listened to her talking in length about the man had added her admiration, and to her great dismay, a hint of jealousy.
She had longed to meet him, to know him. And when she finally did, she realised all those vivid stories she heard about him had faded to nothingness compared to the man himself. He had treated her in kindness and respect that she rarly had throughout her life, just like he did to those he considered friends around him. Against her better judgment, her admiration for him increased, as well as the respect for him, and for the first time in her life, she hoped, no matter how slim the possibly that would be, that he would return the feeling.
At least aware of it.
Her fingers stopped. She sighed. She should not let her guards down, to let her feeling shown in that chamber. His tone was surprised and confused, when detecting her emotional thoughts twirling inside her.
No, he did not know.
And her clumsiness in attempting to explain had made it worse.
Nijah shook her head and walked away from the mannequin. She had since sent a note of apology and received a note in return, stating she was forgiven. Yet she still unable to bring herself to see him. She needed time to calm herself down, to keep her emotion at bay.
And to turn her admiration and desire into respect.
She took off the suit, carefully wrapped it with the tissue paper, and placed them gingerly inside a large box.
Two days later, a UBS courier man knocked the heavy wooden door at the Marius house in the early evening. When the door was opened, the owner of the house found he was being delivered a large, flat parcel. When it was opened, he found out it was the suit the dressmaker had promised to make him, as well as a short note:
Your suit had been completed. I trust it will be your liking.