Arh....You are here.

Nijah’s most recent television obsession.

No, don’t laugh.

{ B A S I C   I N F O R M A T I O N }

LEGAL NAME: Nijah
NICKNAME[S]:

• Mon amour (once upon a time)
  
• Nini (only one person call me that so I am not sure if it counts)
  

ETHNICITY: French
DATE OF BIRTH | AGE: Forever twenty one
GENDER | SPECIES: Female Vampire
PLACE OF BIRTH: Kingdom of Jerusalem.
CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: 

• Living in the house of Marquis de Sade and the Countess as his lordship’s consort

SPOKEN LANGUAGES:

• Gaul
• Latin
• Old French
• English
• Toddler stage Spanish (just start learning)

EDUCATION:  I have been training as a dancer, as well as a servant since I was very little and learned the rest by myself throughout the years.

OCCUPATION:

• Modiste
• Marquis Consort

CRIMINAL RECORD: 

• *cackles* 

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: Heavy smoker and definitely alcoholic.

LIKE[S]: Books, Cigarettes, Zippo, Booze, Fenris (the hound), Coffee, Mael, Ice Cream. Fresh Blood, Sex. Marquis de Sade, Countess, Count, Marius, Andy, Amadeus.
DISLIKE[S]: Betrayal.

PHOBIA[S]: Not as far as I am aware of.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Compassionate. Quiet. Loyal.

{ P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N }

HAIR COLOR: Ebony
EYE COLOR: Pale Azure
HEIGHT:   5’ 6, or 168cm tall.
WEIGHT:  Approximately 130lbs, or 59kg
TATTOOS: Vampires don’t get tattoos
PIERCINGS:  None, all my earrings are clip-on.

{ F A M I L Y   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SIBLING[S]: Mael (fellow fledging), Patiyk (deceased)
CHILDREN: None
PETS[s]: Fenris, and spider Arachne

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Pansexual
MARITAL STATUS: Single
WITH WHO: Did I just say SINGLE?

SINCE WHEN: …………………

(Source: imnotafraidofthebigbadwolf)

There are several things Nijah could not resist to collect:

• Photos of those she cares.
• Zippos
• Cigarette tin boxes
• Egyptian artifacts
• Beautifully made Daggers
• Torturing devices
• Books

Nijah slowly drifted from the dreamless, deathlike slumber back into the realm of the awakening. For a while she laid there, feeling the peace surrounding her and the total relaxation of her mind and her body. Deep down at the back of her head, she knew it would not last. Whatever that had caused her to sleep would eventually return and the pain would once again lingered in her heart.

She slowly sat up and glanced around the room. She was lying in a bed. Which was unusual, for she had never been in a habit of sleeping in one ever since she was a immortal. The fresh bed linen smelt of citrus and forest pine—a familiar smell, making her feeling comfortable. So she was in someone’s house that was not hers, but there was no need to feel on edge as this person was her friend. A trusted one, no doubt. The room was bathed in moonlight, with the french door half-opened on one side. The decoration was simple but practical. Guest bedroom, perhaps?

It was when she noticed the figure curled up in the armchair beside her, fast asleep. At the foot of the chair there were two hounds. One was Fenris, her most trusted husky, and the other….

Kenley.

She was in Mael’s house.

Memories triggered and flooded back, nearly knocking her over.

She buried her face in her hands.

In her mortal years, Nijah had several siblings. Some were older, some were younger. And among them, she was closest to her older brother Patiyk.

Patiyk was the oldest and one of the kindest person she had ever known, also the smartest and the most skilful. Always looking out his siblings as a big brother should. He had always been the leader. When they were younger, he had always been the one who leaded a group of younger children running around the house, dodging their master through the hidden servant passage and sneaking outside their master’s house and exploring the nearby farmlands. They always managed to return before their master realised they were gone. He had never complained, not a single word, the chores that was placed among them. And by Jove, they were chores. Often they would return to their quarters at the end of the day with bruises, cuts and burns. But Nijah had never seen him cry, or even frown, when their mother apply lotions onto them. As any little girl who admired her brother to a fault, she had followed him almost everywhere. And he had always let her. Even places their parents had specifically ordered not to under any circumstance. Growing up, she could not remember a day without him in it. 

To Patiyk she was his most darling sister. The jewel in his eyes. To him she was the exception. She should not be a slave. She should be spoiled and cherished. He had fought with his father so angrily and bitterly when he learned that the older man had delivered his own daughter to the master’s bed chamber in the dead of the night, believing he had betrayed his own children. The argument resulted her older brother one intense flogging from their master and one week’s solitary confinement. After that he tried to keep her company whenever he could.

Therefore that day was the darkest day of her life.

It was the day he died.

He had been working at the stables as a young lad. As he grew older, his skill with melee weapons were improved as well. By the time he reached 20, he was one of the guards that escorted the silk from and to places—a highest honour among the slaves. It was also dangerous, for the route was usually littered with robbers and bandits. Nijah remembered she had spent many days gazing at the gate when he was out of the city.

That day was no different from the rest. She was assisting her mother on the loom when she noticed the stirs in the courtyard. Some of the slaves went to investigate, but returned a few minutes later with face as pale as paper.


“C’est votre fils.” They said.

And without even dropping the the colored yarns and rushed off to hear the news for herself, she had known exactly what had happened. Her worst fear was confirmed.

Patiyk had died.

They were in the gorge on the way back, carriage laden with silks when the ambush happened. Her brother had fought fiercely against the bandits, killing many of them before his body finally fell. She remembered her mind went blank. Nothing she did that day left any impression on her mind. And later, when the moon was up, she climbed onto the straw rooftop of their slave quarter after everyone was asleep, the tears finally fell.

And she cried. Cried and cried and cried. Until her throat hoarse and her eyes dried. Until her face was tear-stained and all the strength from her body was drained. To her, it was the end of hope. From then on, she was truly alone, with no one in the world that would care about her.

Forever.

Deep down inside Nijah”s heart, she sometimes wished her lover would look at her, only her and no one else. That the possibly of marriage between them was greater than her consuming food without feeling sick. But it was like she would forever belong to the darkness, it was impossible in this world. She could only sought them in the realm of dreams, hoping to find them once in a while.

Nijah knew she was about to die.

The arrows that pierced through her body, as well as the deep cuts caused by scimitar, had made her laid one the field for quite some time, long after the first wave of Crusaders. Beneath her, a pool of blood was quick forming. She moved slightly and felt the stickiness at her fingertips. Above her, the pale blue sky, turning slightly red along the edge of the horizon, for it was near sunset, was clear of cloud. There were bodies, thousands of them, scattered across the battlefield. Some were no longer moving and some were crying in agony. Somewhere out of her sight, she could hear vultures circling, summoning the others for foods below.

She panted and opened her mouth, trying to gasp more air. It had became harder and harder to breath.

No, she did not want to die.

The master had escaped the Kingdom of Jerusalem days ago, when hearing the Crusaders marching toward them. He had a estate in the County of Tripoli, where he decided it was save to stay until the war is over. He had left in the dead of the night, with only his immediate family members and a handful of personal servants, and abandoned the rest. Her family, which at the time consisted only her mother, herself and one of her younger brother, was left behind in their own devices. They decided to travel to a smaller city nearby to avoid the conflict. Bad mistake. Because it was there the two armies, one Crusaders and one Muslims, clashed.

They were crossing a patch of dryland when they saw a small loose groups of armies were fighting against each other. They tried to avoid it, but it was too late. Soon they were all down in the shallow valley between the hills. Her mother, sister and brother were all dead.

And soon she would be joined them.

Then it was when she heard the footsteps. Assuring and calm, as if the person was in no hurry to go anywhere else. She frowned, for such a person should not exist in a place like this. She turned her gaze from the fading sky above to the sound of soft boot pressed against the soft sand and rocks.

“Qu’est-ce une chose assez peu que nous avons ici.” The person drawled. His figures was hard for Nijah to see for it was against the sun: “Un lieu insolite pour être quelqu’un comme vous, non?”

The young slave opened her mouth, split and stained with dried blood, trying to make a sound. But nothing came out.

“Il n’y avait pas beaucoup sur vous qui me reste à un festin, pour être honnête.” The person continued to talk: “mais je vous le souhaitez. Dites ce que vous, je vais vous donner un cadeau. Quelque chose … quelque chose que je crois que vous chérir pour l’éternité.”

What? Nijah frowned. Before she was even realise what happen, the person pressed something against her mouth.

“Buvez,” The mysterious stranger said: “Buvez le lot … si vous voulez vivre.” 

And she did. Something warm and salty surged past her mouth and straight to the back of her throat. Like holding onto a lifeline, she drank it. She felt her body started to grow cold, and tired. She was so, very tired…..

They were blood!

“C’est vrai, il boit, mon enfant.” The stranger cooed: “Et vous aurez un sommeil très longtemps. Quand vous vous réveillez, tout va devenir …. très différente.”

Before her heavy eyes fully closed, Nijah saw the person gave her a gentle stroke on the side of her cheek, stood up, and walked away.