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 stared at the intricately carved wooden door of Armand’s residence with her mind blank. She was wearing a long black Khaki coat, wrapping her deep purple long dress inside. Her long hair was wet and plastered around her face. Her alabaster face was dampened by the rain. She had been standing outside of his house for some time, in the pouring rain, ever since she sensed her lover told her he had decided to go to slumber because of the increasing harassment he had experienced over the last few days. She was aware they had been bothering him for some time, for he had to remove himself from London at the end of every week, but this…this was really bad. She was surprised how he could not tell a soul about it and bear everything by himself.
She sighed, using her Mind Gift to unlock the door. The large mansion was empty. Armand was not in the habit of hiring servants, for he did not believe in he should enslaved the others for something he could well managed by himself. she left the edge of her hem and skirted across the marbled floor, up to the well polished staircase, and came to his bedchamber.
The door was not even locked. It stood slightly ajar, revealing the exquisitely made coffin inside. Oak wood, made from the previous century. She shut her eyes briefly, remembered the last time she was here. Such a sweet memory. Armand had been different and so unlike the others. He was the missing part of her soul. Knowing him now sleeping inside that wooden chest, completely oblivious about what was around him, nearly undid her.
How long would him sleep like this? A few months? A few years? Marius had told her a vampire could easily slumbered a few centuries at a time. It was such a heartbreaking thought, having to go through normal daily activities for such a lengthy time without him.
she was not going to.
She unlidded the coffin effortlessly. Inside, her lover was in his dead-like sleep. His statuesque features was so very beautiful. She tilted her head and looked at Armand for a moment, before lifted her skirt and climbed in, carefully arranged herself lying down beside him.
No, she would not let him cope this on his own. She would be here for him, beside him while he was asleep.
And here the moment he opened his eyes.
Mon amour, mon coeur, mon âme. Je suis ici. Je ne vais pas vous quitter. Vous aurez toujours de moi.
Nijah picked up the beeswax candlestick and headed toward the backdoor. She pushed the heavy wooden panel open and slipped into the moonlight. She tugged the collar of her long brown Khaki coat tighter before stepped onto the stone paved alleyway, and to the path that leaded to a hidden pond inside the nearby park. She had discovered it a few nights ago when she was out hunting. The vampire had thought perhaps she could steal a few moment here, gathering her thoughts, or perhaps swimming, stretching her limbs a little.
Nijah sat down on the grass on the edge of an unknown stream. It was a clear night. She could see a scimitar of the moon and littering of stars hung on the dark heaven above. She leaned back and tugged her hands under the her head, listening the soothing sound of running water and watching the trees around her framed the night sky. In the distance, the clock struck an hour.
She sighed. Suppose she’d better head back.
Nijah was humming a tune. A waltz. It had been quite a pleasurable night. She had a lovely feast, a stroll in the dark London street, and watched the sky cleared from the rain, a full moon and thousands of dazzling stars embroidered in the deep velvet sky above. The air was free of its usual stench, for it had be raining half of the night.
The vampire carefully leaped over some puddled on the glistering cobblestone street. Her long hair, as well as her long dark trench coat, were slightly damp from the rain. Her pale skin seemed to be glow in the flickering shadows and dim light. She looked about her through her long lashes, with a small smile hug at the corner of her full lips.
She stretched her hands open, and started to dance.
This was one of the foul mood night.
Nijah jerked her head away from the long, elegant neck of the woman who she just managed to lure from the nightclub nearby. Two puncture wounds, created from her fangs, was evident in dimly lit alleyway. She lifted her near dead prey up and tossed her into the nearby rubbish dump, staggered away and walked toward the street in front of her.
This is the second one she had tonight, yet somehow the usual thrill she had accompanied by the hunt was not there. She hissed, swung her feet and kicked a empty coke can on the side of the footpath. The aluminum flew away and hit the wall, making an rather loud and cranking noise.
Nijah sit alone on the wooden bench in the park. Her hands were tucked inside her long navy blue pocket. Her waist length hair, slightly untidy, hung loosely over her shoulder. Her legs stretched out and crossed. It was way past midnight. There was no one around but darkness and thick fog drifting between the trees.
She looked up and stared at the velvet sky above. There was no moon again tonight. But strangely, it suited her mood well.
An owl zoomed past her, disturbing the silence.
Nijah stared at the disappearing bird. Slowly, a small flew to the corner of her mouth.
She started to hum.
Nijah tilted her head and regarded the hazel eyes only a few inches away from her, their life was fast fading. She ran her fingers feathery down the side of her prey’s face, along the cheek, the jaw, and finally stopped at the two small puncture holes at the side of the neck. He was quite attractive, really. For a moment she was seriously considering turning him into one of them, so she got to keep him forever.
She sighed, straightened up and looked out the window. Eleven o’clock. She suppose she had to be on the way back then.
The vampire pushed the car door open and stepped outside the burgundy sports car. She looked up.
There was no moon tonight.
In the distance, she heard the cat howling.
she ran her fingers through her long, black hair a few times, before starting to walk away from the vehicle.
The sensation of burning jerked Nijah wild awake. Without opening her eyes she knew something wasn’t right. First, she wasn’t in the comfortable coffin in her own home, second, it was daytime and she’s in somewhere that she could be discovered in any minute.
She opened her eyes abruptly and leaped into the ceiling, hissing, trying to avert the sunlight that slip through the gap of the drawn curtain. As she reexamining the room, the vampire noticed the blood splattered bed below and the dead man crumbled at the edge of the bed. On the other side, near the entrance, laid the body of a young woman. She appeared to be dead, too.
What in the world had happened?
Frowning, she slowly came down, carefully avoid the sunlight and stood next to the dead body by the bed. She did not feast upon this man, by the look of things. That was most unusual.
Nijah knelt down and touched the dried blood. She sniffed. Poisons. This man was a drug addict and was near dead when she came to him. Arh. Now it made more sense. She probably had sensed it as soon as she sank her fangs into him and tried to escape. By then the man may had noticed her identity and went banana. She would have no choice but to kill him. Since the blood was already soiled, she would not consider it wasted.
But why could she not remember? Could small drops of bad blood made her so sick she could not recall whatever happened last night after she entered this apartment complex?
Careless, she cursed herself as she paced about the room. Someone who had roamed the earth for over eight hundred years. such a simple mistake was utterly laughable. Yet it had happened. How could she be so careless? Now it it was morning and there would be a huge task for her to return to her house, which, to her knowledge, located on the other side of the London.
She glanced hopelessly at the clock on the wall. 8 o’clock.
She should call someone.
Who should she called?
Nijah stared at the yarns and yarns of exquisit fabric in front of her blankly, her mind had been distracted the whole evening. She had several jobs to complete tonight. To be frank there wasn’t enough time for her to dwell on idle thoughts that clogged up her head. And yet…..
The pen in her hand was tabbing the writing pad in her hand when she heard the bell ringing at the front of her shop. Gathering her thoughts, she moved toward the reception.
Now who could that be?
It was raining.
Nijah looked up into the sky. Dark clouds covered the heavens above, rain poured down around her. She was trenched from head to toe. Her charcoal long dress stuck to her body. Her long ebony hair plastered around her oval shape face. Yet somehow she did not bother.
Standing on the top of the clock tower of the St James, the vampire tilted her head and gazed at the sleeping world below. Thunders crackled across the sky above. The blinding lightening soon followed. The corner of her lips curled up into a a small smile.
She started to hum.
Nija stepped onto the windowsill of her bedroom. Hands rested on both side of the window panel, she gazed out into the moonlight. Above her, the crescent moon curved its sickle among the glittering of stars. The smell of city surged through her nose. Against the lilac-black night light, her alabaster skin were shimmering with pearly glow. The breeze brushed the hem of her white cotton nightgown slightly, lifting her skirt up and revealing her ankle.
she inhaled, letting a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Aarh, the beauty of the night, how did she love thy?