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 pressed her forehead against the cold glassed of the wrought iron window. The clock struck midnight. The crescent moon embedded in the deep velvet blue sky outside, drizzled with billions of diamond-like stars. Her long muslin night gown draped over her elegant body, her ebony hair was lose and hung over her shoulders. She was not in the mood to go out hunting tonight. She was no in the mood to go anywhere at all. All she wanted was stay here, in a half hibernated state, waiting for his return.
It had been days. Armand had been gone for days. She felt like part of her was gone with him. Everyday it become more and more unbearable. Yet she had to carry on her life as if nothing untoward had happened. It slowly tore her up from the inside.
By Jove, she missed him.
She sighed, watching her breath formed a layer of mist on the glass panel. She raised her hand and pushed her finger around the cold mist, drawing a small heart.
Tu me manques, Armand.
She closed her eyes. Savoring the image in her head.
Outside, in the distance, a dog began to howl.