Member
Kalas
Name: Naomi Shastey Chāyì-Popjay
Alias: Naomi Peony Popjay
Nicknames: Nao
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
Age: 28
Apparent Age: Perhaps 17-20, depending on your criteria.
Race: Precursor
Nationality / Lineage: Australian (House Chāyì)
Appearance:
Height: 4'9''
Weight: 89 lbs.
Personality:
History:
Belongings:
Capabilities:
Alias: Naomi Peony Popjay
Nicknames: Nao
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
Age: 28
Apparent Age: Perhaps 17-20, depending on your criteria.
Race: Precursor
Nationality / Lineage: Australian (House Chāyì)
Appearance:
Height: 4'9''
Weight: 89 lbs.
Personality:
Nao is cut from a pointedly different cloth. At the very core of her being lies an innocence. Not innocence in the sense of naivety--it is more like a simplicity of desire.
A straightforwardness.
This "innocence" differs from gullibility not only in its nature, but in its source. Being naive is a sign of underdevelopment--of never having been tried. Trusting the fire because you've never been burned. For Naomi, however, this guilelessness is actually something entirely more like its own kind of tact--she trusts the fire not because she's never been burned, but rather because the fire keeps her warm and feeds her. She is careful. Every chance she takes--every risk she shoulders--is carefully considered. Nao is earnest in the blithest sense of the word. She will never tell a lie that didn't need telling, and comprehends the morally gray atmosphere of the world she lives in.
In that morality, however, she chooses to paint in brighter shades. Simply because she could or would lie doesn't mean she will or wants to. It's all a cautious consideration. She is straightforward simply because it's better, to her, than being spurious and false-faced. Every nugget of information that passes through her ears is considered and placed through a gauntlet of queries and conflicts, and her next action is always the one that she feels has the greatest reward for the least risk.
All of this, though, is merely the method by which she resolves internal conflict, and the reason behind her willingness to trust others. The web grows in breadth and depth as her desires and dreams and moral code enter the fray.
Naomi is superficial. The absolute worst trait she carries is her desire for--and willingness to believe--a pretty face. At the core of everything, she believes beauty is what separates humanity from animals. Her conceit is immutable, but as far as she or anyone else can comprehend, it really is the only conceit she carries--and she carries it willingly. For her, romance is something pivotal to her beliefs; attractiveness, cleverness, seduction and glamor are all things that she idolizes. The greater truths of the world often beget a perfection of form; a clarity of existence.
Nao carries herself with confidence. Most see that at first glance. However, much of that confidence is a facade; it's been generated by years of self-modification and her own personal evolution, rather than an inborn tendency to capture the eyes of others. As a result, she is noticeably feast-or-famine when it comes to social interaction; either she rises high and knows just the right thing to say, becoming the life of the party, or she fades into the background, like a wallflower.
When she's at her best, she's socially sagacious and generally gregarious; at her worst, she's quick to find a corner of the room and start looking for small animals to talk to.
Morally, Nao seems incredibly simplistic, but that belies a greater understanding--as many of her traits often do. Nao, most of the time, will quickly condemn actions that serve a petty purpose or put one person's gain above another's loss. However, when the scale is widened, her morals don't so much decay as they do metamorphose; when it becomes about the safety of others, or the choice between falling into riotous chaos and maintaining a mildly distasteful status quo, Nao will begin considering. She puts a great deal of merit into the lives of others, and is fiercely protective of the rights of the greater populace.
Finally, Naomi is deeply, spiritedly individualistic. She believes two major things:
One, that everyone has the capacity for greatness within them, and it simply takes time and effort to wring it out.
Two, that greatness in and of itself is subjective, and she would really rather you leave your opinion of her dreams to yourself.
It is these things that act as cadence to the tune of her life, and many of her reactions and interjections become self-evident once these--her closest-held tenets--are revealed. Her queer, sprightly demeanor is entirely intentional, and the result of her own personal crucible, rather than a symptom of underdevelopment.
A straightforwardness.
This "innocence" differs from gullibility not only in its nature, but in its source. Being naive is a sign of underdevelopment--of never having been tried. Trusting the fire because you've never been burned. For Naomi, however, this guilelessness is actually something entirely more like its own kind of tact--she trusts the fire not because she's never been burned, but rather because the fire keeps her warm and feeds her. She is careful. Every chance she takes--every risk she shoulders--is carefully considered. Nao is earnest in the blithest sense of the word. She will never tell a lie that didn't need telling, and comprehends the morally gray atmosphere of the world she lives in.
In that morality, however, she chooses to paint in brighter shades. Simply because she could or would lie doesn't mean she will or wants to. It's all a cautious consideration. She is straightforward simply because it's better, to her, than being spurious and false-faced. Every nugget of information that passes through her ears is considered and placed through a gauntlet of queries and conflicts, and her next action is always the one that she feels has the greatest reward for the least risk.
All of this, though, is merely the method by which she resolves internal conflict, and the reason behind her willingness to trust others. The web grows in breadth and depth as her desires and dreams and moral code enter the fray.
Naomi is superficial. The absolute worst trait she carries is her desire for--and willingness to believe--a pretty face. At the core of everything, she believes beauty is what separates humanity from animals. Her conceit is immutable, but as far as she or anyone else can comprehend, it really is the only conceit she carries--and she carries it willingly. For her, romance is something pivotal to her beliefs; attractiveness, cleverness, seduction and glamor are all things that she idolizes. The greater truths of the world often beget a perfection of form; a clarity of existence.
Nao carries herself with confidence. Most see that at first glance. However, much of that confidence is a facade; it's been generated by years of self-modification and her own personal evolution, rather than an inborn tendency to capture the eyes of others. As a result, she is noticeably feast-or-famine when it comes to social interaction; either she rises high and knows just the right thing to say, becoming the life of the party, or she fades into the background, like a wallflower.
When she's at her best, she's socially sagacious and generally gregarious; at her worst, she's quick to find a corner of the room and start looking for small animals to talk to.
Morally, Nao seems incredibly simplistic, but that belies a greater understanding--as many of her traits often do. Nao, most of the time, will quickly condemn actions that serve a petty purpose or put one person's gain above another's loss. However, when the scale is widened, her morals don't so much decay as they do metamorphose; when it becomes about the safety of others, or the choice between falling into riotous chaos and maintaining a mildly distasteful status quo, Nao will begin considering. She puts a great deal of merit into the lives of others, and is fiercely protective of the rights of the greater populace.
Finally, Naomi is deeply, spiritedly individualistic. She believes two major things:
One, that everyone has the capacity for greatness within them, and it simply takes time and effort to wring it out.
Two, that greatness in and of itself is subjective, and she would really rather you leave your opinion of her dreams to yourself.
It is these things that act as cadence to the tune of her life, and many of her reactions and interjections become self-evident once these--her closest-held tenets--are revealed. Her queer, sprightly demeanor is entirely intentional, and the result of her own personal crucible, rather than a symptom of underdevelopment.
History:
Nao's story starts as all good ones do: with an empty jug of milk at 10:35 on a hazy Australian morning.
It was the seventh day in a row that her father, Pyne Chāyì-Popjay, had decided to drink an entire gallon of milk a day. Her mother, Astrid Kosskie, had finally had enough.
The argument over the ridiculous amount of money that they were spending on his newfound desire for calcium escalated very quickly. The squabbling continued for almost two hours, turning from good-natured jabs to harsh accusations and something that approached a true spat.
That is, until the sexual tension broke like a twig and the two of them went at it like the world's worst Heimlich maneuver.
On that day, at 2:00 in the afternoon, their first child was conceived, and they were named Oliver Shastey Chāyì-Popjay.
Oliver, to the two of them, was a problem child. It all started at the ripe old age of four, when Oliver was just learning how to string together complex sentences. Their first statement went something a little like this:
"Daddy, I hate overalls and peas!"
This phrase caused the leg of the nearby endtable to bust into splinters. It was at that point that Pyne was certain of two things;
First, that Oliver was never going to own another pair of denim overalls in their life.
Second, that Oliver took after their father.
Astrid, until her favorite chairside table had been turned into an art installation, was woefully unaware of what she had married into. She'd known that the Popjays she'd met--and been told to keep quiet about--were accomplished mages and runicographs, but it was not until that very moment that she had suspected them of something more.
That suspicion turned into conviction when Pyne insisted on homeschooling their child.
At the age of 6, Oliver became a receptacle for books. Oliver had learned to read quite early--before they were even able to speak--and under Pyne's tutelage, their knowledge flourished at the expense of their freedom. The books started simply enough; learning more complex phonics, reading longer-form narratives and novels, learning about poets, cursive, and maths. Suddenly, a book on discrete magics crept into Oliver's reading schedule, and they read it.
And then they read another.
And another.
At the age of eight, Oliver had, in some ways, forgotten themselves; for fear of manifesting their synesthetism, they had learned to walk with the very quietest of footsteps, and they were all but wordless--preferring to write as a means of communication. It was at about this time, however, that their innate magics were exacerbated yet again. Seventeen days after Oliver's ninth birthday, they tripped and fell against a wall... And found themselves laying there, against the wall, as if they'd fallen on the floor. Oliver sat up, and for the first time that week, spoke a single, solitary word.
"Dad?"
Pyne came rushing into the room, with Astrid close behind him. There Oliver sat, attached to the wall as if nothing had happened at all. Fearing the worst might happen, Pyne was forced to take his child into the fold, and Astrid with them. You see, Pyne was a Chāyì, and the Chāyì are a secretive folk; he had attempted to escape that life, to become his own person, and hoped--desperately--that his child wouldn't turn out like him. He'd tried to whet Oliver's appetite with books and teach them caution and care, but realized all too late that, without proper training, Oliver would be reduced to the life of an invalid. The magics inherent to the Chāyì were beginning to take their hold, and Pyne was no tutor.
But he knew people who were.
Deep in the Australian Outback, where no one would ever think to look, there is a crater. This crater is manmade, a massive thing that, if it weren't for some incredibly clever architects and artists, would be quite easily visible from above. In this depression lay a small university, of sorts--perhaps a square mile in size. Hidden from overhead view, it is one of the better-kept secrets of the Chāyì--a sort of halfway house for its Oceanic descendants. It was there that Oliver lived and died, and where Naomi was born.
Oliver's death wasn't a sudden thing. It was a slow, laborious process. It started innocently enough. When they were merely 11, the plague of their synesthetism had died down, weakened under their now-learned control. Its effects were ever-present, but not as bad as they'd used to be. On that day, Oliver asked a question.
"Why?"
Innocent, yet petulant query. Their first questioning of authority, of status quo. Why here? Why now? Why Oliver? It was the stone that would turn the river. The burbling of a new stream. It was not a question that Oliver would ask--Oliver had always been the type to merely read until they understood, not make a demand to know.
The answer would never come. Shea Chāyì-Popjay was of a no-nonsense sort. She would, however, teach Oliver many lessons, regardless of her own intent. Shea was, moreover, the first obstacle that Naomi vowed to overcome. Strict, stringent, and jaded, the only value that she saw was the value one could provide to her, and the only thing she valued was knowledge and factoids. An academic, through and through, but not a scholar. Under Shea's tutelage, Oliver learned two languages beyond the two they already knew.
She was also Naomi's first introduction into antisophy. Runes, written in flavors Shea saw fit, would be posed on a chalkboard or splayed across a page in her own pen. It was up to Naomi to pick them apart, and understand the intention in the text.
And she would decipher them. Naomi would always find the root, eventually, the cadence to which the runes were written and the logic by which they operated. Oliver wanted answers. Naomi realized that she could create them. Oliver would coop themselves up in their room, after that, poring over ciphers and encryptions and other linguistic excursions. Naomi had an immutable desire for knowledge.
As Oliver aged, they realized that they really could no longer be a "they" anymore. Emotions became complex. Reality became stark and obvious, and it became necessary to shuffle off one identity and adopt a truer one. Year by year, Oliver's feelings on the subjects they were to research and the path they wished to choose grew quieter and quieter; it was Naomi that grew more and more opinionated as time went on. Applications became more and more important. The finer points of magical alterations and alchemy became suddenly a great deal more vital than maths and sciences. Magic became, in and of itself, Naomi's total focus.
It was at 17 that Oliver became just a name that Naomi tolerated. It didn't represent her passions, her intentions, her ideals or her beliefs. She would hear that name at house functions and meetings, from her parents and professors. She was getting so tired of it. Naturally, she gravitated towards the friends she could find--and none of them lived on the compound where she'd been living for so long. She looked to express herself in quiet, subtle ways. She found poetry, linguistics, writing. She mused. She created. She designed verses and prose in ways that spoke to her, rather than to anyone else.
She'd learned much, but the knowledges put upon her were insufficient--they didn't suit her. She was destined for more than asceticism and a life governed by her elders. There was something so much more romantic out there, and she knew she would find it. Her father left his family for a reason; Naomi deserved to have a reason of her own.
The very first act that Naomi performed as an "adult" of her own definition was one of theft. She plucked the keys off of a night guard's hook and waltzed straight out the front gate, into the wilds beyond.
The seventeen year old Naomi managed to camp, alone, for 3 days. The first was easy; she hunted for food, made a little shelter, and relaxed under the stars--she was still close enough to the outpost that her cell phone had an internet connection, and the fresh air was wonderful.
Her phone died halfway through the second day. It was sweltering, and she needed a shower. She passed out under a rock, with barely enough water to make it through the night.
She awoke to her first brush with danger--true danger--in her blessedly short life. A small pack of dingoes had caught her scent, and descended upon the rock that she'd been sleeping under. She was tired. And weak. And so, so hungry. In the pitch of the night, she could practically see their musky smell.
Then, stepping out from under the rock, she realized that it wasn't night at all as the raging heat of the sun beat down on her back.
Naomi had gone blind. Yet--she could still see. Such strange colors, fulminating in the landscape, on a background of purest black. One of the wild dogs reared up and leapt for her, letting out a mighty bark--and cleanly dashed itself on the rock behind her. Then another, and then another. Two dingoes reared around, frantically looking for Naomi, who hadn't moved an inch.
It was at this moment that Naomi had, inadvertently, learned the fullest extent of the magical potential that she carried. When they found her the next day, Nao sat underneath the rock, pupils as white as the roaring sun, with burns, cuts, and blisters all over her hands--likely from clumsily skinning and cooking the dingo carcass that lay an arm's breadth away from her, a large chunk missing from its hind leg and a messy mass of peeled and gouged skin scattered around it.
'They,' as it were, were a couple of nice folk from a place called Alice Springs. The first, a dusky-hued, slight woman in her early 40s, and the second, a man that appeared to be masquerading as half of a bird.
The two of them dusted Naomi off, fed her, and clothed her. People, of course, came looking.
Naomi decided to hide. The two helped, in more ways than one. The woman--Shaska Roucrouge--proved to be quite the actor. It helped, of course, that a large bird-person--Kapsey Atat--proved quite intimidating with a machete. Even accomplished mages like the Chāyì know better than to bother with large birds in their own home.
Kapsey proved to be an interesting person; a licentia hailing from Portugal who moved to escape the prejudices of the greater public. His morals were simple, but they were salient. He became someone that Naomi desired to mold herself after. He was like a superhero, to her--a great deal more like a father than her father ever was. Pyne was never around enough--he felt more like an uncle than a father.
Naomi, eventually, decided to start living in Alice Springs. She started out painfully, painfully small, living in the attic of that very same odd couple. She used her knack for linguistics to learn more applicable talents--namely, coding and IT. Her aggressive and depthy education saw to it that hiring was never an issue. It would be in that attic that she would spend six months of her life, before--finally--putting together enough money to find an apartment of her own.
At the age of 18, Nao realized that she needed to make a change. A severe, personal change.
She needed to mold herself into the person she knew she was.
Her magical studies never truly stopped, not even after she lost the vast library that the Chāyì painstakingly maintained. She began to research by doing. She began taking pills to alter her appearance--and two weeks in, she finished work on the first hand of Hecatoncheir, Diddles.
It was the first step on a long, long road of self-discovery and evolution.
Time passed. Work came and went. Surgeries came and went. Naomi, however, arrived. Slowly, bit by bit, she molded herself into a person--a being--that she could be happy with. A someone that took after people, not the expectations that were foisted upon her. She created things. Another 99 hands. Aldous and George. All sorts of wonderful and interesting items, all in the effort to properly explore who Naomi truly was.
Then, of course, she was found. No freedom truly lasts forever. The Chāyì brought her back into the fold, though the person they brought back was almost unrecognizable from the runaway that had stood there only 8 years prior. Even as they dragged her to meetings between the houses, her defiance of her birthright was palpable--it was apparent to everyone who talked to her.
Some were against who she had become, but a fair few were sympathetic to her cause. It was these few--Pyne counted among them. At 27, she--and a few others--smuggled themselves away from the Chāyì outpost, scattering themselves to the furthest reaches of the globe.
In the effort of learning more about the cultures that her adopted family were once a part of, Nao's pilgrimage found its destination in a city called Ominar.
It was there that, for the last time, she recreated herself from the ground up--in a way a great deal more extreme than anything before it.
Ominar is where Naomi rewrote herself as the protagonist of her own story, rather than the supporting character of everyone else's. It is the place where Oliver ceased to exist, and where Naomi, for the very first time, had come into her own.
It was the seventh day in a row that her father, Pyne Chāyì-Popjay, had decided to drink an entire gallon of milk a day. Her mother, Astrid Kosskie, had finally had enough.
The argument over the ridiculous amount of money that they were spending on his newfound desire for calcium escalated very quickly. The squabbling continued for almost two hours, turning from good-natured jabs to harsh accusations and something that approached a true spat.
That is, until the sexual tension broke like a twig and the two of them went at it like the world's worst Heimlich maneuver.
On that day, at 2:00 in the afternoon, their first child was conceived, and they were named Oliver Shastey Chāyì-Popjay.
Oliver, to the two of them, was a problem child. It all started at the ripe old age of four, when Oliver was just learning how to string together complex sentences. Their first statement went something a little like this:
"Daddy, I hate overalls and peas!"
This phrase caused the leg of the nearby endtable to bust into splinters. It was at that point that Pyne was certain of two things;
First, that Oliver was never going to own another pair of denim overalls in their life.
Second, that Oliver took after their father.
Astrid, until her favorite chairside table had been turned into an art installation, was woefully unaware of what she had married into. She'd known that the Popjays she'd met--and been told to keep quiet about--were accomplished mages and runicographs, but it was not until that very moment that she had suspected them of something more.
That suspicion turned into conviction when Pyne insisted on homeschooling their child.
At the age of 6, Oliver became a receptacle for books. Oliver had learned to read quite early--before they were even able to speak--and under Pyne's tutelage, their knowledge flourished at the expense of their freedom. The books started simply enough; learning more complex phonics, reading longer-form narratives and novels, learning about poets, cursive, and maths. Suddenly, a book on discrete magics crept into Oliver's reading schedule, and they read it.
And then they read another.
And another.
At the age of eight, Oliver had, in some ways, forgotten themselves; for fear of manifesting their synesthetism, they had learned to walk with the very quietest of footsteps, and they were all but wordless--preferring to write as a means of communication. It was at about this time, however, that their innate magics were exacerbated yet again. Seventeen days after Oliver's ninth birthday, they tripped and fell against a wall... And found themselves laying there, against the wall, as if they'd fallen on the floor. Oliver sat up, and for the first time that week, spoke a single, solitary word.
"Dad?"
Pyne came rushing into the room, with Astrid close behind him. There Oliver sat, attached to the wall as if nothing had happened at all. Fearing the worst might happen, Pyne was forced to take his child into the fold, and Astrid with them. You see, Pyne was a Chāyì, and the Chāyì are a secretive folk; he had attempted to escape that life, to become his own person, and hoped--desperately--that his child wouldn't turn out like him. He'd tried to whet Oliver's appetite with books and teach them caution and care, but realized all too late that, without proper training, Oliver would be reduced to the life of an invalid. The magics inherent to the Chāyì were beginning to take their hold, and Pyne was no tutor.
But he knew people who were.
Deep in the Australian Outback, where no one would ever think to look, there is a crater. This crater is manmade, a massive thing that, if it weren't for some incredibly clever architects and artists, would be quite easily visible from above. In this depression lay a small university, of sorts--perhaps a square mile in size. Hidden from overhead view, it is one of the better-kept secrets of the Chāyì--a sort of halfway house for its Oceanic descendants. It was there that Oliver lived and died, and where Naomi was born.
Oliver's death wasn't a sudden thing. It was a slow, laborious process. It started innocently enough. When they were merely 11, the plague of their synesthetism had died down, weakened under their now-learned control. Its effects were ever-present, but not as bad as they'd used to be. On that day, Oliver asked a question.
"Why?"
Innocent, yet petulant query. Their first questioning of authority, of status quo. Why here? Why now? Why Oliver? It was the stone that would turn the river. The burbling of a new stream. It was not a question that Oliver would ask--Oliver had always been the type to merely read until they understood, not make a demand to know.
The answer would never come. Shea Chāyì-Popjay was of a no-nonsense sort. She would, however, teach Oliver many lessons, regardless of her own intent. Shea was, moreover, the first obstacle that Naomi vowed to overcome. Strict, stringent, and jaded, the only value that she saw was the value one could provide to her, and the only thing she valued was knowledge and factoids. An academic, through and through, but not a scholar. Under Shea's tutelage, Oliver learned two languages beyond the two they already knew.
She was also Naomi's first introduction into antisophy. Runes, written in flavors Shea saw fit, would be posed on a chalkboard or splayed across a page in her own pen. It was up to Naomi to pick them apart, and understand the intention in the text.
And she would decipher them. Naomi would always find the root, eventually, the cadence to which the runes were written and the logic by which they operated. Oliver wanted answers. Naomi realized that she could create them. Oliver would coop themselves up in their room, after that, poring over ciphers and encryptions and other linguistic excursions. Naomi had an immutable desire for knowledge.
As Oliver aged, they realized that they really could no longer be a "they" anymore. Emotions became complex. Reality became stark and obvious, and it became necessary to shuffle off one identity and adopt a truer one. Year by year, Oliver's feelings on the subjects they were to research and the path they wished to choose grew quieter and quieter; it was Naomi that grew more and more opinionated as time went on. Applications became more and more important. The finer points of magical alterations and alchemy became suddenly a great deal more vital than maths and sciences. Magic became, in and of itself, Naomi's total focus.
It was at 17 that Oliver became just a name that Naomi tolerated. It didn't represent her passions, her intentions, her ideals or her beliefs. She would hear that name at house functions and meetings, from her parents and professors. She was getting so tired of it. Naturally, she gravitated towards the friends she could find--and none of them lived on the compound where she'd been living for so long. She looked to express herself in quiet, subtle ways. She found poetry, linguistics, writing. She mused. She created. She designed verses and prose in ways that spoke to her, rather than to anyone else.
She'd learned much, but the knowledges put upon her were insufficient--they didn't suit her. She was destined for more than asceticism and a life governed by her elders. There was something so much more romantic out there, and she knew she would find it. Her father left his family for a reason; Naomi deserved to have a reason of her own.
The very first act that Naomi performed as an "adult" of her own definition was one of theft. She plucked the keys off of a night guard's hook and waltzed straight out the front gate, into the wilds beyond.
The seventeen year old Naomi managed to camp, alone, for 3 days. The first was easy; she hunted for food, made a little shelter, and relaxed under the stars--she was still close enough to the outpost that her cell phone had an internet connection, and the fresh air was wonderful.
Her phone died halfway through the second day. It was sweltering, and she needed a shower. She passed out under a rock, with barely enough water to make it through the night.
She awoke to her first brush with danger--true danger--in her blessedly short life. A small pack of dingoes had caught her scent, and descended upon the rock that she'd been sleeping under. She was tired. And weak. And so, so hungry. In the pitch of the night, she could practically see their musky smell.
Then, stepping out from under the rock, she realized that it wasn't night at all as the raging heat of the sun beat down on her back.
Naomi had gone blind. Yet--she could still see. Such strange colors, fulminating in the landscape, on a background of purest black. One of the wild dogs reared up and leapt for her, letting out a mighty bark--and cleanly dashed itself on the rock behind her. Then another, and then another. Two dingoes reared around, frantically looking for Naomi, who hadn't moved an inch.
It was at this moment that Naomi had, inadvertently, learned the fullest extent of the magical potential that she carried. When they found her the next day, Nao sat underneath the rock, pupils as white as the roaring sun, with burns, cuts, and blisters all over her hands--likely from clumsily skinning and cooking the dingo carcass that lay an arm's breadth away from her, a large chunk missing from its hind leg and a messy mass of peeled and gouged skin scattered around it.
'They,' as it were, were a couple of nice folk from a place called Alice Springs. The first, a dusky-hued, slight woman in her early 40s, and the second, a man that appeared to be masquerading as half of a bird.
The two of them dusted Naomi off, fed her, and clothed her. People, of course, came looking.
Naomi decided to hide. The two helped, in more ways than one. The woman--Shaska Roucrouge--proved to be quite the actor. It helped, of course, that a large bird-person--Kapsey Atat--proved quite intimidating with a machete. Even accomplished mages like the Chāyì know better than to bother with large birds in their own home.
Kapsey proved to be an interesting person; a licentia hailing from Portugal who moved to escape the prejudices of the greater public. His morals were simple, but they were salient. He became someone that Naomi desired to mold herself after. He was like a superhero, to her--a great deal more like a father than her father ever was. Pyne was never around enough--he felt more like an uncle than a father.
Naomi, eventually, decided to start living in Alice Springs. She started out painfully, painfully small, living in the attic of that very same odd couple. She used her knack for linguistics to learn more applicable talents--namely, coding and IT. Her aggressive and depthy education saw to it that hiring was never an issue. It would be in that attic that she would spend six months of her life, before--finally--putting together enough money to find an apartment of her own.
At the age of 18, Nao realized that she needed to make a change. A severe, personal change.
She needed to mold herself into the person she knew she was.
Her magical studies never truly stopped, not even after she lost the vast library that the Chāyì painstakingly maintained. She began to research by doing. She began taking pills to alter her appearance--and two weeks in, she finished work on the first hand of Hecatoncheir, Diddles.
It was the first step on a long, long road of self-discovery and evolution.
Time passed. Work came and went. Surgeries came and went. Naomi, however, arrived. Slowly, bit by bit, she molded herself into a person--a being--that she could be happy with. A someone that took after people, not the expectations that were foisted upon her. She created things. Another 99 hands. Aldous and George. All sorts of wonderful and interesting items, all in the effort to properly explore who Naomi truly was.
Then, of course, she was found. No freedom truly lasts forever. The Chāyì brought her back into the fold, though the person they brought back was almost unrecognizable from the runaway that had stood there only 8 years prior. Even as they dragged her to meetings between the houses, her defiance of her birthright was palpable--it was apparent to everyone who talked to her.
Some were against who she had become, but a fair few were sympathetic to her cause. It was these few--Pyne counted among them. At 27, she--and a few others--smuggled themselves away from the Chāyì outpost, scattering themselves to the furthest reaches of the globe.
In the effort of learning more about the cultures that her adopted family were once a part of, Nao's pilgrimage found its destination in a city called Ominar.
It was there that, for the last time, she recreated herself from the ground up--in a way a great deal more extreme than anything before it.
Ominar is where Naomi rewrote herself as the protagonist of her own story, rather than the supporting character of everyone else's. It is the place where Oliver ceased to exist, and where Naomi, for the very first time, had come into her own.
Belongings:
Aldous and George:
These twin constructs, when active, are linked directly to Nao's ostium, acting as a second pair of hands. However, what makes
these massive hands unique is not their method of movement and motion, but rather their ability to move their digits along the
rings that they have been fashioned on. It is noteworthy that, unless Naomi concentrates on their movements specifically, both
Aldous and George will follow the movements of the hands they represent, maintaining a palm-like configuration.
When Naomi ceases moving one of her hands entirely, she is capable of utilizing Aldous or George to their fullest extent,
moving digits as she pleases to suit her needs. Aldous is the right, George is the left.
The Antisophist's Almanac:
Ever the errant scion of the Chāyì, Naomi--nor any other traveling Chāyì descendant--would never be caught dead without the
Antisophist's Almanac. This tome is, in and of itself, nonmagical. However, it details the ins and outs of the runic language,
allowing--with time and a little bit of effort--most antisophists to counter-work almost any rune or ward. Comprehensive notes
on every runic swish, sway, and structure that the Chāyì house has come across are detailed within. Moreover, this book often
comes in a variety of different shapes and forms, usually tailored to the user's preferences. Nao's is white and leather-
bound, with her name penned in her own script across the front. It is the fourth copy she has ever owned, and unlike the other
three, it is in sterling condition and has remained so. Naomi's personal notes cover each and every page like a calligraphic
mask. These notes come in at least four different colors; usually whatever color pen she had on hand at the time.
Hecatoncheir:
Unlike most of the Chāyì, Naomi saw it fit to expand her knowledge of antisophy beyond just countermagic. Hecatoncheir is the
result of this exploration, powered by her application of fascillomagy. To each and every one of these tiny, hexagonal drones,
there is a connection point for Nao to reach out and link up with them. However, each of these connection points take up
progressively larger and larger amounts of her cognitive function, to the point that if she were to use all of them at once,
she would be completely unable to move save for her eyes. Named for the hundred-handed titans of myth, these mites all have
one thing in common: each and every one of them have a portion of a rune inscribed upon their face. Given time and
concentration, Nao is capable of quickly stringing together runes of many shapes and configurations, so long as there are no
more than four endpoints for the rune; given the modular nature of Hecatoncheir, Nao was forced to forgo making more than a
few endpoint drones in favor of offering more points of continuation on individual faces. Moreover, Hecatoncheir can act as
a shield, as the drones are quite solidly built and any vis connections created force them into alignment. Upon the backsides
of each of the "hands," there is a single, solid, bright dot of varying color: these are used so Naomi can create runes while
pointing them away from herself.
Nao's favorite hand is named Diddles. It is an endpoint, and the only one with a white dot on the back; she uses it to start
every rune.
A Wallet:
Small, white, and clasps with two buttons. Fits nicely in her dress pockets. Also, it has a self-immolation mechanism. The
Popjays, even among their peers, are really quite protective of their identities. Opening the wallet too quickly will cause
the flint inlay in the clasp to spark, which will quickly cause the oil on inside of the wallet to catch aflame and burn the
whole thing. The concave end of the clasp leads directly into the inner lining of the wallet, which is soaked in said oil.
Her ID picture is awful. The face looks like her, except generally worse--and it lacks her trademark ears.
It also incorrectly lists her height as 5'11'', and her hair color as "Black."
Gug:
Her smartphone. The finger smudges are almost unbearable, but Nao's clothes are made out of fabric that just doesn't catch on
the screen at all. However, she also hardly notices unless there's gunk on the screen, like soy sauce.
(She has, on perhaps too many occasions, soaked Gug in rice and ended up cooking with it later.)
Filled to the brim with texts from her family that she's ignored or half-heartedly responded to, numbers for restaurants,
and, perhaps most importantly, three different completely terrible mobile games that she can't bring herself to delete or
pay money for. Also, a disturbing amount of pirated music. The AI assistant refers to her as "The Chicken Nuggest."
The ringtone is Saint Motel's "For Elise."
These twin constructs, when active, are linked directly to Nao's ostium, acting as a second pair of hands. However, what makes
these massive hands unique is not their method of movement and motion, but rather their ability to move their digits along the
rings that they have been fashioned on. It is noteworthy that, unless Naomi concentrates on their movements specifically, both
Aldous and George will follow the movements of the hands they represent, maintaining a palm-like configuration.
When Naomi ceases moving one of her hands entirely, she is capable of utilizing Aldous or George to their fullest extent,
moving digits as she pleases to suit her needs. Aldous is the right, George is the left.
The Antisophist's Almanac:
Ever the errant scion of the Chāyì, Naomi--nor any other traveling Chāyì descendant--would never be caught dead without the
Antisophist's Almanac. This tome is, in and of itself, nonmagical. However, it details the ins and outs of the runic language,
allowing--with time and a little bit of effort--most antisophists to counter-work almost any rune or ward. Comprehensive notes
on every runic swish, sway, and structure that the Chāyì house has come across are detailed within. Moreover, this book often
comes in a variety of different shapes and forms, usually tailored to the user's preferences. Nao's is white and leather-
bound, with her name penned in her own script across the front. It is the fourth copy she has ever owned, and unlike the other
three, it is in sterling condition and has remained so. Naomi's personal notes cover each and every page like a calligraphic
mask. These notes come in at least four different colors; usually whatever color pen she had on hand at the time.
Hecatoncheir:
Unlike most of the Chāyì, Naomi saw it fit to expand her knowledge of antisophy beyond just countermagic. Hecatoncheir is the
result of this exploration, powered by her application of fascillomagy. To each and every one of these tiny, hexagonal drones,
there is a connection point for Nao to reach out and link up with them. However, each of these connection points take up
progressively larger and larger amounts of her cognitive function, to the point that if she were to use all of them at once,
she would be completely unable to move save for her eyes. Named for the hundred-handed titans of myth, these mites all have
one thing in common: each and every one of them have a portion of a rune inscribed upon their face. Given time and
concentration, Nao is capable of quickly stringing together runes of many shapes and configurations, so long as there are no
more than four endpoints for the rune; given the modular nature of Hecatoncheir, Nao was forced to forgo making more than a
few endpoint drones in favor of offering more points of continuation on individual faces. Moreover, Hecatoncheir can act as
a shield, as the drones are quite solidly built and any vis connections created force them into alignment. Upon the backsides
of each of the "hands," there is a single, solid, bright dot of varying color: these are used so Naomi can create runes while
pointing them away from herself.
Nao's favorite hand is named Diddles. It is an endpoint, and the only one with a white dot on the back; she uses it to start
every rune.
A Wallet:
Small, white, and clasps with two buttons. Fits nicely in her dress pockets. Also, it has a self-immolation mechanism. The
Popjays, even among their peers, are really quite protective of their identities. Opening the wallet too quickly will cause
the flint inlay in the clasp to spark, which will quickly cause the oil on inside of the wallet to catch aflame and burn the
whole thing. The concave end of the clasp leads directly into the inner lining of the wallet, which is soaked in said oil.
Her ID picture is awful. The face looks like her, except generally worse--and it lacks her trademark ears.
It also incorrectly lists her height as 5'11'', and her hair color as "Black."
Gug:
Her smartphone. The finger smudges are almost unbearable, but Nao's clothes are made out of fabric that just doesn't catch on
the screen at all. However, she also hardly notices unless there's gunk on the screen, like soy sauce.
(She has, on perhaps too many occasions, soaked Gug in rice and ended up cooking with it later.)
Filled to the brim with texts from her family that she's ignored or half-heartedly responded to, numbers for restaurants,
and, perhaps most importantly, three different completely terrible mobile games that she can't bring herself to delete or
pay money for. Also, a disturbing amount of pirated music. The AI assistant refers to her as "The Chicken Nuggest."
The ringtone is Saint Motel's "For Elise."
Capabilities:
Mental:
Naomi is, in the strictest terms, very intelligent. She carries an innate ability to adapt, comprehend, and intuit, and much
of that applies to any further mental capabilities that she carries.
To that end, her willpower is really quite something to behold; while it isn't limitless, the amount of suffering she's able
to put herself through is frightening, especially for someone of her stature. Her training in catalysmy is a major part of
her mental resilience.
Pattern recognition and problem solving are well above par, compared to most folk.
Scholarly education; while she has no explicit degrees, her education level is on par with most post-graduates, specifically
in the field of linguistics.
Fluent in English, Mandarin Chinese, and Cantonese. Conversational in Russian, Korean, Spanish, and Portuguese.
Comprehends the logic and syntax structures of most major Medius languages, and as such can intuit a lot of meaning languages
she doesn't know.
Familiar with most ciphers, and fairly capable of decrypting messages given time and effort.
Prone to bouts of insomnia--as a result, she is somewhat chemically dependent on sleeping pills.
Displays dysphoric tendencies, and frets about her appearance to the point of near-narcissism; lacks most other
traits of narcissistic personality disorder, however.
Capable of tolerating extremely high levels of discomfort.
Highly functional, even without the use of some of her major senses.
Responds well to stress and stressful situations, but often becomes indecisive in a pinch.
Creatively inclined.
Mathematically disinclined, but versed to the point of higher calculus concepts.
Physical:
Physically weak.
Small stature, extremely light--easily to unbalance.
Capable of contorting herself into spaces as small as 2 cubic feet.
Highly dexterous, capable of doing two completely independent movements with both hands.
Left hand dominant; hefts most objects with her right hand, however.
Acute sense of hearing. Can hear sounds outside of the human auditory range.
Highly effective sense of smell.
Fairly sensitive, especially at her joints; strikes to nerve clusters such as the funny bone are especially painful, likely
due to drastic body modification putting a stress on her bones and muscles.
Lacks human feet; must wear shoes that support her vulpine ankles, as a result.
Low pain threshold, high pain tolerance.
Slightly nearsighted, but not to the point of needing any sort of corrective lenses.
High degree of physical coordination.
Magical/Technological:
Catalysmy (Imprinted):
Catalysmy is not to be confused with Cataclysmy, the much more exciting cousin that everyone wishes existed. Catalysmy--the
art of antimagic using the body and the inner/outer ostium as a catalyst--is a discipline almost entirely unique to
Precursors. Many races have attempted to replicate it, and all of them have succeeded in some regard, but Precursor
catalysmy--practiced primarily by the Chāyì--is on a level all its own, thanks to the clever usage of their velo.
The velo is something akin to a shield around a second set of ostium, and in being so, it is also uniquely capable of acting
as a valve. The very essence of catalysmy is the capture of manifested vis in the outer ostium;
this flytrap-like maneuver allows the mage--often through the use of a somatic component such as tai chi--to push the vis
piece by piece through their inner ostium, pushing it around their anima and out through another hole that they have formed in
their velo. This manipulation of velo has one unintended effect, however--it also renders them open to another strike, and at
some point, enough magical energy will simply overload the user and levy the weight of all of the magics upon them at once.
Masters of catalysmy are to be feared, however. The human facsimile of catalysmy is seen in the art of the Shaolin monk, who
stands capable of withstanding immense pain and have some degree of simple antimagic. True catalysmists, however, are known
to be able to counterattack with all of the vis that has been expended upon them, and, in a perhaps more fearsome manner,
metamorphose to adopt the elemental aspects of the world around them and become--temporarily--a vessel for the elements.
Nao's understanding of catalysmy is twofold: first, she carries a great potential for antimagic. Unless she stands up against
someone who greatly exceeds her own capacity for vis control, the functionality of vis-based attacks are practically useless,
unless there happens to be quite a lot of them. Moreover, catching her blindsided is another simple method of bypassing her
catalysmic barrier. Her second capacity is a vestige of true mastery, though she is not, herself, a master: she is capable,
when properly focused, of counterattacking using only small amounts of her own vis. The problem lies in that she must be
standing perfectly still in order to use this ability, and anything that breaks her concentration will render her unable to
redirect the attack. As this skill develops, however, she is like to become a great deal more effective at redirection.
Complex Antisophy (Imprint Lexicon):
Antisophy is more an art than a science. At its very core, this discipline is akin to learning how to pick a lock.
Antisophy, or the countermagic of runes and the runic language, is a style of magic entirely unique to the Chāyì purely by the
nature by which it must occur. Antisophy is characterized by the articulate imprint of a series of partial runes upon the
anima, something like taking every possible line present in the alphabet and etching it into your eyelids. The runic language
has two necessary components: purity of form, and purity of purpose. Form, of course, is present in the runes themselves.
While runes lack a true lingua franca, there are only so many methods of completing a rune; this allows for the presence of
somatic antisophy, or combat antisophy--a skill that cannot be taught to non-Precursors.
There are two target goals of antisophists: to either ruin a rune by destroying purity of form, or overpowering the enemy's
vis and essentially hijacking a rune by superseding the original creator's intent. Many of the Chāyì spend decades upon
centuries perfecting this skill, and there is no such thing as a true mastery of antisophy, given the conceptual nature of
runes. However, a collection of understood runes can be amassed, and meanings can be applied to new runes--that is the basis
for the magic of antisophism. The capacity for instinctual magic, moreover, is pivotal. Thus, the Chāyì pioneered the
concept of the Lexicon, the process of imprinting inscriptions rather than true magics. Popjay antisophism, for instance, is
heavily based in the art of combat antisophy, and as a result has a bias towards popular runicographies, rather than focusing
on shorthands. The rest of these antisophistic half-runes are inscribed in a massive codex known as the Antisophist's Almanac
which Nao has in her possession--as do all Chāyì.
On a personal level, Nao has a great deal of experience with antisophy, and uses somatic antisophy in a primarily anti-combat
manner. Often, she chooses to stop fights before they even begin, ruining runes or overpowering runecrafters, in the process
creating harmless or incapacitative runes. Moreover, Nao has a fairly complex understanding of the creation of runes, and--in
tandem with fascillomagy--often creates tiny constructs with parts of runes written on each, mixing and matching them to
complete full runes with a variety of different effects. These "recreated" runes are ones that she has personally memorized,
using the Antisophist's Almanac as a lexicon of concepts.
Runicography (Learned):
This is more of a runoff trait from having learned antisophy. A great deal of the runic language that Naomi is intimate with
focuses on non-aggressive applications; very little of her understanding extends into the more creative explorations of runes,
save for in the case of antisophic alterations. The presence of this capability in her magical knowledges is entirely
for the sake of posterity, and is best described by referring to Complex Antisophy.
When designing runes, Nao prefers to use a shorthand she refers to as "singlestroke." Using Hecatoncheir, she fashions runes
that can be performed using only one press of a pen. Many of these runes take inspiration from traditional Chinese, the
first language she learned to antisophize. This makes it particularly difficult to antisophize, because not only is it
nearly impossible to break Hecatoncheir's purity of form--thanks to the hivelike nature of the construct--it is a shorthand,
meaning that her opponent would have to be a precursor that could apply new meaning to her shorthand on the fly, or worse yet,
someone who has made themselves intimately familiar with her runicographic notes.
Broken Synesthetism (Complex Imprint):
Synesthetism is easily the most esoteric of the three major imprinted magics that the Chāyì family passes on--and the most
pointedly dangerous. Synesthetism is the act of physically materializing the senses, which comes in a variety of
manifestations. For instance, Nao is capable of manifesting her sense of hearing--which causes the sound waves that
pass through her ears to flex and aberrate the world around her. This causes a ripple effect with every sound that's created
in her vicinity, something like dropping a pebble in a silent pond.
This, however, is where the similarities with normal Chāyì descendants end. Synesthetism, when imprinted, is so complex that
it has never--not once--arrived in a child in its complete form. As a result, a part of the journey into adulthood for the
Chāyì is properly grasping synesthetism and specializing in a sense. This sense, usually, is the one that first manifests
during their early years--and many Chāyì learn how to utilize sensory manifestation in a variety of scenarios.
For Nao, however, her synesthetism manifested in not one, but three ways. Sight, sound, and balance.
Her early years were, in fact, a catastrophic disaster.
As she developed and learned how to complete her personal imprint for synesthetism, an entirely new problem arrived: her
imprint had actually become too complex to properly utilize. As a result, whenever Nao accesses synesthetism, she loses
the sense that she manifests.
It is important to note, though, that because of the complexity of this imprint and its effect on her, Nao is, in fact,
unable to use the Sight unless she gives up her sense of sight. It is easy to see when Naomi uses her Sight,
because her synesthetistic reactions are all completely visual: when she gives up her ability to see, her sclera dye a deep
navy hue, whereas her irises and pupils become uniformly white.
Before going further, it is important to explain how synesthetism is imposed upon an opponent or another living target. First,
the target must be "tagged" with some of the synesthetist's vis--that is, the synesthetist must get their ostium in range of
their enemy and suffuse vis in their direction, like fungal spores. As such, synesthetism is seen as a complement to
close-range combat, and many synesthetists explore martial arts as a supplement to their magical skills.
The first of the three is sight. When Naomi tags another person and imposes synesthetistic sight upon them, two things
occur: she first blinds herself, and then, one by one, all of the target's senses slowly become visual stimuli. It begins
innocently enough; they start seeing sounds as they ripple away from their sources. Then, scents guide them towards their
origin. After about 5 minutes, however, their vision occludes and becomes more and more esoteric--in tandem with Naomi's.
The only boon she has over her target is that she removes her vision in the first place--meaning that, for the first while,
she has an immense advantage over a confused opponent. Once the sense of taste and touch begin to be visualized, however,
the visual input becomes so cloudy and murky that even Naomi ceases to be able to discern relative location; it is usually at
this point that she must halt the visual manifestations.
Even when using the Sight without a target, Naomi's vision will still slowly obfuscate. However, this obfuscation is much
slower, as she has to use less vis to maintain her concentration and keep the visual noise in check.
Second, there is sound. The sound manifestation, for Naomi, is actually something more like a locus. When manifested, sound
will begin physically altering the landscape and the surfaces of inanimate objects, rendering as they enter the vicinity of
Naomi's manifestation--within 7 feet of her, in this case. As Naomi goes deaf when using this facet of synesthetism, her
situational awareness usually comes from sensing these tremors as they pass over her or her clothes. When imposed on an
opponent, these sound waves begin aberrating their physical form, to greater and greater degrees depending on the loudness
of the sound and the amount of vis Naomi is expending. These tremors make bones particularly weak--as jagged structures are--
and often make it easier to severely cripple opponents. The visual cue for this version of synesthetism is, in fact, her ears;
they clamp firmly down against her head, completely cupping themselves from all noise. Her original ears, too, would fold in
on themselves, back when she had them.
Finally, there is balance. When active, Naomi's sense of balance isn't so much gone as it is muted--making it
difficult for her to stand upright, and anything faster than a slow stroll is vertigo-inducing. However, when active, she
becomes capable of physically changing the pull of gravity on her person--allowing her to effectively attach herself to walls
and ceilings. Without a sense of balance, moreover, it affects her exactly as much as being on the ground. Thus, she is
capable of slowly but steadily ascending most any surface, given that she can keep her vertigo in check.
When imposed on an opponent, their sense of balance is placed in lockstep with Naomi's movements. If she were to move onto
a wall, their sense of balance would act as if they were laying horizontal. She often uses this skill in tandem with Aldous
and George, pushing herself around in order to induce vertigo in her opponent. This, however, often causes her to vomit in
the process. Because her sense of balance is muted, even light jostling will wreak havoc on her stomach.
It is easy to tell when she loses her sense of balance, because all of the muscles in her arms go slack. This is due to her
added reliance on fascillomagy during this sensory manifestation, but the actual physical manifestation--a whitening of the
tongue and throat--are difficult to see unless she's talking.
It is important to note that while Naomi can use these aspects of synesthetism in tandem, she will also compound
the sensory loss associated with each, and draw on more vis in the process. As a result, she very rarely uses more than one,
and has never used three at once.
Autotomic Fascillomagy (Learned):
Many mages are versed in the usage of construct control and creation, but few are so passionate about the subject as Nao.
Fascillomagy, or the magic of controlling constructs directly, is a generally indelicate art, but with Nao behind the wheel,
it is something like a dance. Loosely related to technomancy, fascillomagy specifically deals with constructs that have been
fashioned by the user and have an intended purpose that aligns with fascillomagy's uses.
Nao's application of the magic, while unconventional, is still well within the means of the school's confines. It is also,
moreover, the only magic that she could prospectively imprint at this current juncture. Through ruthless tenacity and a great
deal of research, her practiced skills with fascillomagy are adjacent to mastery--she uses constructed limbs as if they were
her own. This is best exemplified with her control of Hecatoncheir, which requires an immense number of specific and dexterous
movements to control more than ten at once.
The reason for Nao's mastery, however, is actually partially due to her warped synesthetism; she is uniquely capable of
functioning while some of her body's major senses are shut off, and, as a result, her fascillomagy is amplified manyfold when
she is perfectly unmoving. To control all 100 hands of Hecatoncheir, for instance, she must be sitting completely still--not
standing, because she must also mute her sense of balance--otherwise, she'll have to focus too hard on standing up and every
single hand of Hecatoncheir will drop like flies. This is where the "autotomy" comes in; she cuts off some of her ability
to move and articulate in order to gain more control. In fact, were literal autotomy to occur, Nao would likely be able to
have a greater degree of control over her constructs at all times. Her tail and ears, moreover, count as moving parts that she
must "shut off" to gain more control, and--though Naomi might never admit it--part of the reason she has them may be to train
herself to think with more limbs at once.
She prefers the romantic explanation.
The Search-Engine Learnings of the Modern Scholar:
Much of Nao's technological knowledge is, in fact, a building block for her further understandings of most of her fields of
interest. Naomi is well-versed in the much-lauded Google-fu, and is fairly capable at just about any task she sets her mind
to, given time and access to a research tool. While, of course, Naomi is no script kiddie, she is faintly versed in a variety
of coding languages to the point of being able to read and parse most of the code she sees--being able to pick out important
syntax and the makings of recursive loops, for instance. From a purely technological perspective, Naomi is often as capable as
the information she's been given. A perfect instance of this is her ley-constructs, Aldous and George. They were both
fashioned by Naomi, but significant time and research--taking place over the course of seven months--were required to properly
string together and piece together the knowledge required to fashion the twin hands, using the Chāyì's vast library of
knowledge on vis crystals and fascillomagic anatomy, as well as advanced magical metalworking techniques and even things as
mechanical as hydraulics.
In short: if there is a technical document on how to build a deck and Nao is in need of a deck, she will make that deck.
Naomi is, in the strictest terms, very intelligent. She carries an innate ability to adapt, comprehend, and intuit, and much
of that applies to any further mental capabilities that she carries.
To that end, her willpower is really quite something to behold; while it isn't limitless, the amount of suffering she's able
to put herself through is frightening, especially for someone of her stature. Her training in catalysmy is a major part of
her mental resilience.
Pattern recognition and problem solving are well above par, compared to most folk.
Scholarly education; while she has no explicit degrees, her education level is on par with most post-graduates, specifically
in the field of linguistics.
Fluent in English, Mandarin Chinese, and Cantonese. Conversational in Russian, Korean, Spanish, and Portuguese.
Comprehends the logic and syntax structures of most major Medius languages, and as such can intuit a lot of meaning languages
she doesn't know.
Familiar with most ciphers, and fairly capable of decrypting messages given time and effort.
Prone to bouts of insomnia--as a result, she is somewhat chemically dependent on sleeping pills.
Displays dysphoric tendencies, and frets about her appearance to the point of near-narcissism; lacks most other
traits of narcissistic personality disorder, however.
Capable of tolerating extremely high levels of discomfort.
Highly functional, even without the use of some of her major senses.
Responds well to stress and stressful situations, but often becomes indecisive in a pinch.
Creatively inclined.
Mathematically disinclined, but versed to the point of higher calculus concepts.
Physical:
Physically weak.
Small stature, extremely light--easily to unbalance.
Capable of contorting herself into spaces as small as 2 cubic feet.
Highly dexterous, capable of doing two completely independent movements with both hands.
Left hand dominant; hefts most objects with her right hand, however.
Acute sense of hearing. Can hear sounds outside of the human auditory range.
Highly effective sense of smell.
Fairly sensitive, especially at her joints; strikes to nerve clusters such as the funny bone are especially painful, likely
due to drastic body modification putting a stress on her bones and muscles.
Lacks human feet; must wear shoes that support her vulpine ankles, as a result.
Low pain threshold, high pain tolerance.
Slightly nearsighted, but not to the point of needing any sort of corrective lenses.
High degree of physical coordination.
Magical/Technological:
Catalysmy (Imprinted):
Catalysmy is not to be confused with Cataclysmy, the much more exciting cousin that everyone wishes existed. Catalysmy--the
art of antimagic using the body and the inner/outer ostium as a catalyst--is a discipline almost entirely unique to
Precursors. Many races have attempted to replicate it, and all of them have succeeded in some regard, but Precursor
catalysmy--practiced primarily by the Chāyì--is on a level all its own, thanks to the clever usage of their velo.
The velo is something akin to a shield around a second set of ostium, and in being so, it is also uniquely capable of acting
as a valve. The very essence of catalysmy is the capture of manifested vis in the outer ostium;
this flytrap-like maneuver allows the mage--often through the use of a somatic component such as tai chi--to push the vis
piece by piece through their inner ostium, pushing it around their anima and out through another hole that they have formed in
their velo. This manipulation of velo has one unintended effect, however--it also renders them open to another strike, and at
some point, enough magical energy will simply overload the user and levy the weight of all of the magics upon them at once.
Masters of catalysmy are to be feared, however. The human facsimile of catalysmy is seen in the art of the Shaolin monk, who
stands capable of withstanding immense pain and have some degree of simple antimagic. True catalysmists, however, are known
to be able to counterattack with all of the vis that has been expended upon them, and, in a perhaps more fearsome manner,
metamorphose to adopt the elemental aspects of the world around them and become--temporarily--a vessel for the elements.
Nao's understanding of catalysmy is twofold: first, she carries a great potential for antimagic. Unless she stands up against
someone who greatly exceeds her own capacity for vis control, the functionality of vis-based attacks are practically useless,
unless there happens to be quite a lot of them. Moreover, catching her blindsided is another simple method of bypassing her
catalysmic barrier. Her second capacity is a vestige of true mastery, though she is not, herself, a master: she is capable,
when properly focused, of counterattacking using only small amounts of her own vis. The problem lies in that she must be
standing perfectly still in order to use this ability, and anything that breaks her concentration will render her unable to
redirect the attack. As this skill develops, however, she is like to become a great deal more effective at redirection.
Complex Antisophy (Imprint Lexicon):
Antisophy is more an art than a science. At its very core, this discipline is akin to learning how to pick a lock.
Antisophy, or the countermagic of runes and the runic language, is a style of magic entirely unique to the Chāyì purely by the
nature by which it must occur. Antisophy is characterized by the articulate imprint of a series of partial runes upon the
anima, something like taking every possible line present in the alphabet and etching it into your eyelids. The runic language
has two necessary components: purity of form, and purity of purpose. Form, of course, is present in the runes themselves.
While runes lack a true lingua franca, there are only so many methods of completing a rune; this allows for the presence of
somatic antisophy, or combat antisophy--a skill that cannot be taught to non-Precursors.
There are two target goals of antisophists: to either ruin a rune by destroying purity of form, or overpowering the enemy's
vis and essentially hijacking a rune by superseding the original creator's intent. Many of the Chāyì spend decades upon
centuries perfecting this skill, and there is no such thing as a true mastery of antisophy, given the conceptual nature of
runes. However, a collection of understood runes can be amassed, and meanings can be applied to new runes--that is the basis
for the magic of antisophism. The capacity for instinctual magic, moreover, is pivotal. Thus, the Chāyì pioneered the
concept of the Lexicon, the process of imprinting inscriptions rather than true magics. Popjay antisophism, for instance, is
heavily based in the art of combat antisophy, and as a result has a bias towards popular runicographies, rather than focusing
on shorthands. The rest of these antisophistic half-runes are inscribed in a massive codex known as the Antisophist's Almanac
which Nao has in her possession--as do all Chāyì.
On a personal level, Nao has a great deal of experience with antisophy, and uses somatic antisophy in a primarily anti-combat
manner. Often, she chooses to stop fights before they even begin, ruining runes or overpowering runecrafters, in the process
creating harmless or incapacitative runes. Moreover, Nao has a fairly complex understanding of the creation of runes, and--in
tandem with fascillomagy--often creates tiny constructs with parts of runes written on each, mixing and matching them to
complete full runes with a variety of different effects. These "recreated" runes are ones that she has personally memorized,
using the Antisophist's Almanac as a lexicon of concepts.
Runicography (Learned):
This is more of a runoff trait from having learned antisophy. A great deal of the runic language that Naomi is intimate with
focuses on non-aggressive applications; very little of her understanding extends into the more creative explorations of runes,
save for in the case of antisophic alterations. The presence of this capability in her magical knowledges is entirely
for the sake of posterity, and is best described by referring to Complex Antisophy.
When designing runes, Nao prefers to use a shorthand she refers to as "singlestroke." Using Hecatoncheir, she fashions runes
that can be performed using only one press of a pen. Many of these runes take inspiration from traditional Chinese, the
first language she learned to antisophize. This makes it particularly difficult to antisophize, because not only is it
nearly impossible to break Hecatoncheir's purity of form--thanks to the hivelike nature of the construct--it is a shorthand,
meaning that her opponent would have to be a precursor that could apply new meaning to her shorthand on the fly, or worse yet,
someone who has made themselves intimately familiar with her runicographic notes.
Broken Synesthetism (Complex Imprint):
Synesthetism is easily the most esoteric of the three major imprinted magics that the Chāyì family passes on--and the most
pointedly dangerous. Synesthetism is the act of physically materializing the senses, which comes in a variety of
manifestations. For instance, Nao is capable of manifesting her sense of hearing--which causes the sound waves that
pass through her ears to flex and aberrate the world around her. This causes a ripple effect with every sound that's created
in her vicinity, something like dropping a pebble in a silent pond.
This, however, is where the similarities with normal Chāyì descendants end. Synesthetism, when imprinted, is so complex that
it has never--not once--arrived in a child in its complete form. As a result, a part of the journey into adulthood for the
Chāyì is properly grasping synesthetism and specializing in a sense. This sense, usually, is the one that first manifests
during their early years--and many Chāyì learn how to utilize sensory manifestation in a variety of scenarios.
For Nao, however, her synesthetism manifested in not one, but three ways. Sight, sound, and balance.
Her early years were, in fact, a catastrophic disaster.
As she developed and learned how to complete her personal imprint for synesthetism, an entirely new problem arrived: her
imprint had actually become too complex to properly utilize. As a result, whenever Nao accesses synesthetism, she loses
the sense that she manifests.
It is important to note, though, that because of the complexity of this imprint and its effect on her, Nao is, in fact,
unable to use the Sight unless she gives up her sense of sight. It is easy to see when Naomi uses her Sight,
because her synesthetistic reactions are all completely visual: when she gives up her ability to see, her sclera dye a deep
navy hue, whereas her irises and pupils become uniformly white.
Before going further, it is important to explain how synesthetism is imposed upon an opponent or another living target. First,
the target must be "tagged" with some of the synesthetist's vis--that is, the synesthetist must get their ostium in range of
their enemy and suffuse vis in their direction, like fungal spores. As such, synesthetism is seen as a complement to
close-range combat, and many synesthetists explore martial arts as a supplement to their magical skills.
The first of the three is sight. When Naomi tags another person and imposes synesthetistic sight upon them, two things
occur: she first blinds herself, and then, one by one, all of the target's senses slowly become visual stimuli. It begins
innocently enough; they start seeing sounds as they ripple away from their sources. Then, scents guide them towards their
origin. After about 5 minutes, however, their vision occludes and becomes more and more esoteric--in tandem with Naomi's.
The only boon she has over her target is that she removes her vision in the first place--meaning that, for the first while,
she has an immense advantage over a confused opponent. Once the sense of taste and touch begin to be visualized, however,
the visual input becomes so cloudy and murky that even Naomi ceases to be able to discern relative location; it is usually at
this point that she must halt the visual manifestations.
Even when using the Sight without a target, Naomi's vision will still slowly obfuscate. However, this obfuscation is much
slower, as she has to use less vis to maintain her concentration and keep the visual noise in check.
Second, there is sound. The sound manifestation, for Naomi, is actually something more like a locus. When manifested, sound
will begin physically altering the landscape and the surfaces of inanimate objects, rendering as they enter the vicinity of
Naomi's manifestation--within 7 feet of her, in this case. As Naomi goes deaf when using this facet of synesthetism, her
situational awareness usually comes from sensing these tremors as they pass over her or her clothes. When imposed on an
opponent, these sound waves begin aberrating their physical form, to greater and greater degrees depending on the loudness
of the sound and the amount of vis Naomi is expending. These tremors make bones particularly weak--as jagged structures are--
and often make it easier to severely cripple opponents. The visual cue for this version of synesthetism is, in fact, her ears;
they clamp firmly down against her head, completely cupping themselves from all noise. Her original ears, too, would fold in
on themselves, back when she had them.
Finally, there is balance. When active, Naomi's sense of balance isn't so much gone as it is muted--making it
difficult for her to stand upright, and anything faster than a slow stroll is vertigo-inducing. However, when active, she
becomes capable of physically changing the pull of gravity on her person--allowing her to effectively attach herself to walls
and ceilings. Without a sense of balance, moreover, it affects her exactly as much as being on the ground. Thus, she is
capable of slowly but steadily ascending most any surface, given that she can keep her vertigo in check.
When imposed on an opponent, their sense of balance is placed in lockstep with Naomi's movements. If she were to move onto
a wall, their sense of balance would act as if they were laying horizontal. She often uses this skill in tandem with Aldous
and George, pushing herself around in order to induce vertigo in her opponent. This, however, often causes her to vomit in
the process. Because her sense of balance is muted, even light jostling will wreak havoc on her stomach.
It is easy to tell when she loses her sense of balance, because all of the muscles in her arms go slack. This is due to her
added reliance on fascillomagy during this sensory manifestation, but the actual physical manifestation--a whitening of the
tongue and throat--are difficult to see unless she's talking.
It is important to note that while Naomi can use these aspects of synesthetism in tandem, she will also compound
the sensory loss associated with each, and draw on more vis in the process. As a result, she very rarely uses more than one,
and has never used three at once.
Autotomic Fascillomagy (Learned):
Many mages are versed in the usage of construct control and creation, but few are so passionate about the subject as Nao.
Fascillomagy, or the magic of controlling constructs directly, is a generally indelicate art, but with Nao behind the wheel,
it is something like a dance. Loosely related to technomancy, fascillomagy specifically deals with constructs that have been
fashioned by the user and have an intended purpose that aligns with fascillomagy's uses.
Nao's application of the magic, while unconventional, is still well within the means of the school's confines. It is also,
moreover, the only magic that she could prospectively imprint at this current juncture. Through ruthless tenacity and a great
deal of research, her practiced skills with fascillomagy are adjacent to mastery--she uses constructed limbs as if they were
her own. This is best exemplified with her control of Hecatoncheir, which requires an immense number of specific and dexterous
movements to control more than ten at once.
The reason for Nao's mastery, however, is actually partially due to her warped synesthetism; she is uniquely capable of
functioning while some of her body's major senses are shut off, and, as a result, her fascillomagy is amplified manyfold when
she is perfectly unmoving. To control all 100 hands of Hecatoncheir, for instance, she must be sitting completely still--not
standing, because she must also mute her sense of balance--otherwise, she'll have to focus too hard on standing up and every
single hand of Hecatoncheir will drop like flies. This is where the "autotomy" comes in; she cuts off some of her ability
to move and articulate in order to gain more control. In fact, were literal autotomy to occur, Nao would likely be able to
have a greater degree of control over her constructs at all times. Her tail and ears, moreover, count as moving parts that she
must "shut off" to gain more control, and--though Naomi might never admit it--part of the reason she has them may be to train
herself to think with more limbs at once.
She prefers the romantic explanation.
The Search-Engine Learnings of the Modern Scholar:
Much of Nao's technological knowledge is, in fact, a building block for her further understandings of most of her fields of
interest. Naomi is well-versed in the much-lauded Google-fu, and is fairly capable at just about any task she sets her mind
to, given time and access to a research tool. While, of course, Naomi is no script kiddie, she is faintly versed in a variety
of coding languages to the point of being able to read and parse most of the code she sees--being able to pick out important
syntax and the makings of recursive loops, for instance. From a purely technological perspective, Naomi is often as capable as
the information she's been given. A perfect instance of this is her ley-constructs, Aldous and George. They were both
fashioned by Naomi, but significant time and research--taking place over the course of seven months--were required to properly
string together and piece together the knowledge required to fashion the twin hands, using the Chāyì's vast library of
knowledge on vis crystals and fascillomagic anatomy, as well as advanced magical metalworking techniques and even things as
mechanical as hydraulics.
In short: if there is a technical document on how to build a deck and Nao is in need of a deck, she will make that deck.