Mivuli

Closed

Riley only laughed at Nihil's straightforward words. "Oh, I like that girl," she snickered to herself, watching Nihil's back. Her palms now dry, she could feel her fire gaining strength, and Riley shook her head like a wet dog once more before she put it out. Didn't want to go smoking up the submarine that had appeared in theatric time with Mr Sinister's announcement.

Riley walked up to its door, and stepped in. She turned to the butler - a spiffed up old man, but apparently lethal if Mr Sinister were to be trusted - and asked conspiratorially, "Any chance you could hook us up with some weapons? Daggers? I would take a steak knife at this point."

Riley made her way towards the back of the submarine, taking a stool and dragging it between her legs. Straddling it with wide-spread knees, she propped her elbow up against the smooth, cool wall and leaned her temple against the heel of her hand. She was looking forward to some down-time now that the adrenaline from the fight was slowly ebbing away and the thrill of freedom was losing its overpowering sweetness. And in the rancours of that, lay a silent reminder of why Riley had chosen to bind herself to a team of strangers - powerful, and just a little bit insane.

I'm getting to you, Naomi. Riley drummed her fingers against the curving metal surface, and then curled them into a fist. Her stare was vacant, seeing not the old butler or the other Rogues, but a girl with hair spun of gold and a smile that just radiated sunshine. Riley was dark as far as she was concerned, with blood on her hands and enough sins to make up one hell of a resume for Satan to mull over, but somehow none of that corruption had touched Naomi, despite their proximity, their shared DNA. Please wait for me.

Project Rehab

Voices.

Lian Hui turned her head. Lying on the thin facility-issued mattress with one knee propped up and an arm thrown carelessly beneath the plates of her skull, she could hear speaking, introductions. A visitor had come to see the sideshows, to ogle at them from behind one-way mirrors. Interest quickly sublimated, she turned her head, feeling her bony wrist pressing into a pressure point. It was uncomfortable, but the prickly discomfort kept her mind minimally occupied. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, like a breath of tobacco smoke that rose and curled overhead in the spine of a question mark. Given another month, Lian Hui would be a spirit, deceased of boredom.

Beneath her bed where she lay were stashed the few possessions she had been permitted to keep. But she had quickly lost interest in her hoarded items. Only test-tubes which remained crystal clear since Lian Hui had no use for them in her cell. Not when she had no chemicals, no plants that could reduce a man to a writhing contortionist with just a touch. Nothing stimulating to play with. Even the mandarins she received in February during the Chinese New Year – always given in threes, even though they were supposed to come in even numbers – were genetically-modified to be seedless, crusty and crunchy. But if she had seeds, the cell would be quickly overrun with vines and branches. Maintenance and security would be dearly compromised. Lian Hui knew that, as much as her captors.

Lian Hui’s ears twitched at the mention of her name, but otherwise remained unresponsive as knuckles rapped concisely on the door to her cell. The story of her own life was given a muffled blurb, succinct and meant to suffice. Only, the man had glazed over the first chapters, as though Lian Hui had only sprung into existence as Aconitum. As though all of them had only started living when crime became their backdrops, their careers.

Sonder. The word sprang to mind, a bittersweet thing that rolled breathily off her tongue.

Two doors away, there was a crunch, and the weary sentence, “And...he's like that." And then, something was dialed and the door to Lian Hui’s cell flung open.

Lian Hui’s breath came out in a gust of wind. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, legs swinging to hang off the edge of the bed, toes brushing the cold floor. She could hear one of the prisoners – Cortez – lewdly appraising the second visitor – female – but her heart was beating in her ears as she contemplated the open door before her.

But the moment disappeared quickly, before the taste of freedom close could overwhelm her. It became just another shade of colour on a spectrum of vividity that was admittedly brilliant, but which she - impervious to colour and all its nuances - had no capability of appreciating. Lian Hui forced herself to stand. Otherwise, she would simply be locked into place where she sat, under the shackles of impassivity, locking her limbs and staunching any flow of care.

It was why she hadn’t resisted being taken into captivity years before when the jig was up, and why she had to remind herself to walk into freedom rather than remain unmoved.

But they were not liberated, Lian Hui reminded herself as she heard the name Elizabeth Dalton tossed into the air. Not truly. Free folk did not have supervisors to watch their every move and breath, did not have threats implanted beneath the skin, ready to implode at the first sign of insubordination. Lian Hui perched herself at the doorway, neither inside nor out of her cell. At the threshold between trapped and free, Lian Hui stood, peering up and down the corridor, spying at first glance a man who looked distinctly uncomfortable, another dark-skinned male with a defined jawline, and a tall slender woman at one end of the hallway.

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

Kina was growing accustomed to loping down mile-long corridors and sprinting down staircases before they could jolt to life and start moving with the end-point of elsewhere in mind, and still arriving late. Classes had come to an end, and Kina had been late to all of them. The castle - with its twisting hallways and sprawling grounds - was child's play to get lost in. Kina had slipped belatedly into each class with cheeks ruby red from exertion and embarrassment. He had a sinking feeling he had already been blacklisted in every professor's book so far, from Charms to Potions.

It was all but guaranteed that Kina would continue to be habitually late to class until he shot up another foot.

And he absolutely, casually, loved the place.

Through the windows he had seen wizards and witches whizzing by on their brooms, robes aflutter like wings behind them as they raced each other around, or tossed balls in flight. There was an air of gaiety and jubilation everywhere that permeated the brick and mortar of the school, made up its culture that must have persisted during the years of renovation prior Kina had heard about in the conversations he had dropped a ear in. The pictures that lined the walls he passed gazed curiously but not hostilely at him, not even restrained by the frames that bordered their images. Some wiggled fingers at him, and Kina flushed in response as he continued to walk by. He was pretty much resolute in his decision to pick up a camera from the magical world. He had tried cracking open his digital one when he had gotten to his dormitory, only to find that his LCD screen just fizzled and crackled at him when switched on.

"Electronic thingamajigs don't work here. The magic offsets it. Can't imagine why you would want still pictures though, when you can have moving ones," Rory Bird the Ravenclaw prefect had told him when Kina asked, with a flaming neck and the uncomfortable feeling of being towered over. Bird had then proceeded to thoroughly inspect Kina's camera ("And what is this button supposed to do - ohh.") and Kina had barely managed to escape with it intact before Bird tried to take it apart and cast a Transfiguration spell on it - to Kina's profound horror. ("Oh come on, don't be a spoilsport, this one'll make it sprout legs and dance and pose for you! I've practiced!")

Ravenclaw House seemed to be full of odd figures like Rory Bird, bright students with sharp minds and quick tongues. Kina had seen some in the common room the night before, casting spells on inanimate objects to make them suddenly very animated. They looked none too simple, but the students had only laughed as they waved their wands and performed their magic impeccably.

Kina wasn't very sure why he was in Ravenclaw, with the bar set so high. He might have shared their passion for learning, but he was behind the rest, and would be playing catch-up for the most part. Which was why he was now headed for a study club he had heard about in the Great Hall during breakfast. A gathering for first-years to learn together. One of the boys who was in Ravenclaw with him seemed to be the mastermind behind the idea. With any hope and frequent sessions, Kina could realistically aim for As - though, from what he had heard, those weren't necessarily the best.

He was walking down a corridor when he heard laughter ringing from one of the open doors. He leaned forward to covertly peep into the study room to check if it was indeed the right location, but jumped back when a book hurtled past him, missing him by a breath.

Kina looked back into the room, to see a blonde girl on a table, bent double in chortles beside a curly-haired boy he recognised as the Ravenclaw who'd been spreading the good word. Ascertaining that no more books would be flying into him, Kina crept out from behind the wall and bent to pick up the thrown book. He turned back to face the two students, and walked across the threshold, one hand holding tight to the straps of his satchel while the other held the book out to them.

"I think this is yours," he murmured, fighting to keep the colour from rising in his cheeks as he approached the desk. "This is the study club, yeah? I'm sorry I'm late, I got lost around the green-houses." His eyes darted around the brightly-lit room - and its freshly-painted walls, unmarked furniture, and unstained glass panes - before he started, as though remembering something briefly overlooked, and added, "I'm Kina Listig."

Project Rehab

@CutUp Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier, but in most Chinese names like Lian Hui's, the first word (in her case: Wong) is their respective family name, and their 'first names' that the parents give are whatever follows. So Lian Hui can be formally referred to as Ms Wong. Sorry if there was any confusion!

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

Ohmygosh that's a really long and in-depth post, I loved reading it, and now I need to get the internal screaming off my chest. Kudos to you guys because it's incredibly immersive. Thank you so much for this experience, and for making all my 11-year-old dreams come alive.

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

_{Kina Listig}

blood status:

Muggle-Born

age:

11

gender:

Male

house:

Ravenclaw

personality:

Intensely private and reserved, Kina will not share his life story within the first hour of meeting, or indeed the first year. While he doesn’t actively seek out sociability all the time, he can swallow his introversion to take the first step in meeting someone. Still, he will remain quiet for the most part, and tread cautiously.

Interests Include: Photography | Reading | Writing (The written word comes to him more easily than the spoken, when he has time to phrase things properly) | Learning (He's missed out on 11 years of the magical world he may never get back, so he's enraptured and intends to find out everything there is to know about it)

Lives in the Moment | As someone with a penchant for photography and cameras, Kina enjoys most capturing moments as they whizz by. It never fails to intrigue him how just a push of the shutter button can immortalise an instant: be it a sunset, a laugh, a blade of grass yielded to the wind. His camera is what he grabs onto when he’s unsure, the viewfinder a safe place. He was disappointed his digital camera wouldn't function properly in Hogwarts, but he will admit he is awed by the moving pictures the Wizarding world has, a moment relived over and over in motion.

A Little of a Dreamer | It is in Kina's nature to live in two worlds sometimes. In his spare time, he might be immersing himself in a fantasy world hidden in unassuming pages and paragraphs, or imagining himself one. He often has one foot in this world we all share, and another in one populated by only himself. People often feel the need to fill spaces with words and noises and dialogue. Kina thinks there is just as much beauty and meaning in the silences in between.

Optimism | He doesn’t step headlong into trust, but he retains faith in the best in people at first encounter – only losing it should they prove otherwise on repeated counts, and even then perhaps not. People he is comfortable with are few and far between, but Kina knows to accept wholeheartedly those who are willing to put up with him, and his tentative reservations. His confidence in people outweighs his own. Kina knows as much, but he reckons that this keeps him humble. He is not so much as enthused by the future, as he is hopeful. Most of the time, he can convince himself that anything will get better, and this attitude is what buoys him along. He shares his optimism not by forcing it onto people, but by painting a picture of what could be, so attractive that people will prefer to cling onto the hope rather than abandon it. Nothing is set in stone for Kina, and he contemplates a stark reality with an outlook for positive prospects. This also translates into valuing a person’s best features, and accepting the unfavourable.

Copes with Silence | But there are times when he sinks further. Kina may retreat to his room and shan’t emerge until he has been submerged in his own silence long enough to face noise again. If not given the chance to do so, he will withdraw into himself, and won’t say a word unless someone actively tries to rope him back in. During rough patches, Kina copes with stress or pressure by going catatonic. Holding onto his words when he feels as though he is slowly spiraling out of restraint gives him the illusion of control, of having a say – by removing speech – in some part of his life. He does everything with effort and his best, and burns out easily. He may seem fragile, spontaneously slipping into a wordless unresponsive state without warning, but it just appears sudden because Kina won’t say a word or give any indication of what has been weighing his heart beforehand.

Towards Others | Even if Kina is not very good at protecting himself, he doesn’t bend so easily when it comes to friends or people he cares about. He tries not to listen to rumours if they are baseless, and he won’t let whispers on the wind affect his individual perception of his peers. His method of comfort is highly characteristic of himself: he won’t give reassurances of another’s qualities even if he believes fervently in them. He doesn’t think his words will hold high value or large enough impact to right the wrong done. But Kina will stick fast, for his strength is the wordless sort. He would be the last to turn a back on a person, and he holds on through thick and thin with unwavering loyalty. Needless to say, when he loves people, he loves them wholeheartedly, placing their desires above his needs. Severing a relationship is all but an unspeakable betrayal of trust to him, and he is willing to put in as much as effort as is needed to rectify anything.

history:

Kina was born to two loving, middle-class parents. They lived in an average neighbourhood, where there was some seedy lowlife but where Kina never encountered any trouble. He always lay low on the radar, partly because he tended to shy away from the spotlight. He was diligent in school, amidst other youths who took up smoking much too early, who joined gangs and all but erased their own directions in life. Kina would win an award for academic performance every year, and after the first three began to consider not doing as well so he wouldn’t have to go up on stage and present himself to an audience with a glaring spotlight baking his skin as he broke into cold sweat. But his parents – weary and lined as hard workers often are – always seemed to glean so much joy from watching their son clamber up to the principal to receive his prize (never mind if his knees were knocking), that he didn’t think he could tear that pride away from them, only to replace it with disappointment. So he continued to study well in school, continued to bring home certificates and sometimes medals.

In primary school, Kina knew a girl who was his very best friend. He had other friends, but none as close as this one. She had spent the better part of a week pulling him closer and closer, until it was easier for Kina to just smile at her and stop protesting. He had never known a relationship so close, where he could lean on her for support. He didn't know that that meant placing in her hands the power to walk away and unbalance him. Kina thinks falling once might have been hard enough, and he would have simply picked himself up and relearned how to stand alone, with himself as a lone crutch. But his friend had a tendency to walk away in anger and then return after she was again happy and placated by Kina’s efforts to remedy whatever wrong it might have been. Kina took to bending backwards to keep her pleased and pleasant and by his side. Wasn’t prevention better than cure? It was a friendship that wore him out constantly, but he began to believe with his usual optimism that if he were to do better, and not make mistakes, he wouldn't make her angry, and he wouldn't fall down so often. So really, his friend would comment now and then when she was sated, if he had to struggle to his feet bruised and battered from yet another drop, it was his fault.

He came to believe her, and in the end, leaning on another’s shoulders came more and more slowly to him, while his own became rounded under the familiar weight of blame. His words, already soft to begin with, only got quieter and quieter, and Kina learnt that sometimes the numbing bolster of silence and solitude were preferable to being hurt - though he'd never say so.

When the letter from Hogwarts came on his birthday, in a flutter of feathers and indignant hoots as the kitchen exploded in disorganised confusion, Kina’s head could barely wrap around the idea of magic. But his parents beamed at him, as though the wizardry that ran in his veins and the spells that would soon push arithmetic and chemistry out of his head were something he had worked hard to acquire. And once the shock had worn out, he was grinning too. What followed was a messy weekend of visiting Diagon Alley, and getting used to all sorts of patrons in the Leaky Cauldron where they stayed a night. He grew increasingly excited at the life that awaited him, and he never thought buying text books would be such an adventure. As the first of September approached, the tension in the pit of his stomach only ebbed away, and Kina tried very hard not to admit to himself that it had to do with the distance he was finally putting between himself and his friend, and instead busied himself with learning what Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer were from the lady who pushed a trolley-cart laden with unfamiliar sweets.

appearance:

Kina has brown curls that are almost always ruffled and messy. He is not very tanned but he is several shades darker than deathly pale from standing outdoors in open fields trying to shoot videos under the right lighting or from staying under the sun longer than necessary coaxing a squirrel or some other small woodland creature onto his viewfinder (photography and videography are some of his passions). His eyes are a molten hazel brown and his pupils are large giving him a perpetually wide-eyed look, accentuated even further by a tapered chin. He is thin and slight, and looks to be on the delicate, scrawny side. He bruises easily.
Kina’s clothes often hang off of his narrow shoulders at best. Sometimes they swim on him. In Hogwarts, with the billowing robes and positively voluminous outfits, it is a safe-bet that Kina’s uniform will look ridiculously loose and ill-fitting on him.

wand material:

Sycamore | Unicorn Tail Hair | 12 inches | Supple

boggart:

If he were to face a boggart, Kina would be facing himself. A spitting image, a reflection. Only, it wouldn’t exactly be him. It would be Kina in vagrant clothes, Kina with the gaunt look of the way-less and lacking, of those who have failed to accomplish in their lives, who have left nothing for their parents to be proud of. And before his eyes, the boggart in his form would dissolve, until it had faded away, not even a wisp of what once was.

other:

• Ruffles his already windswept hair when frustrated
• Smiles slowly – like a flag unfurling in the wind – when he’s been pleasantly surprised
• Puts his thumb against his lips when thinking

Closed

So erm... Am I just being ignored from here on or what?

@Pirouette

I think Nihil and Riley said some parting words to Ellie before running off.

Closed

Huh, @Mivuli, I kind of like the fancy character name you put at the top. Consider it stolen.

@Diggerton

Haha, sure. Damn yours looks good. If anyone else wants to try: 1001fonts.com

Closed

"If you must have a name you may call me Nihil," said the lady, the glower back on her face. Riley responded with a grin. It was just so easy to get a rise out of the woman, how could Riley resist ribbing her?

The Warden fallen, the escapees regrouped. The foam around the elevator shaft had almost melted away, but before they could win their freedom, the robot clambered back up onto its feet, and launched a second attack. Before Riley could make sense of it, smoke erupted around them, and she felt the breath blown out of her as polysterene sprouted around her. "Oh, come on. Now this is just childish and unnecessary," she muttered, now distracted, with a scowl of her own. She wriggled her extremities, finding them free.

Suddenly, Riley was knocked off her feet, a weight suddenly upon her. Blinking up, momentarily dazed, she saw Nihil, and felt a smirk spring to her face. But it disappeared when she heard gunfire and the metallic noises of bullets that hadn't found their marks ricocheting madly off the metal walls.

Rolling out from beneath Nihil, Riley sat up. At once, she caught sight of bloodstains along the back of Nihil's clothes, suspiciously shallow. Riley clicked her fingers, heat surging in her blood as she made the fire blaze faster to melt the foam she was shelled in, waiting for Nihil's blood to start spurting in a grotesque crimson fountain. "What were you - " But the question was lost when Riley noticed bullets lying around on the floor, and no entry wounds on Nihil.

Riley looked at Nihil, scanning her face for a clue, before she broke out a lopsided smile of her own. "Once we're done with this," she said, getting to her feet and stretching out a hand to pull Nihil up with her, smoking foam falling like wax off of her body, "remind me to ask you what landed you here in the first place." And why you haven't bled out from multiple bullet wounds yet, she thought.

She turned her attention back to the Warden. A giant man, pasty pale and hairless, was absorbing an assault of electricity, grenades and the entire arsenal the Warden had to offer. The shirtless man had struck off the chest plate. Riley couldn't set fire to the arms again, in case that just short-circuited the wires and upped the voltage even more as the porcelain man held on.

Another man had done something to the shaft, and now there was a torrent of water. Before Riley could dodge its sweeping path, she felt its current roll over her. Sputtering for air, Riley cursed to herself. "Goddamnit." She shook her head and flicked the worst of the water off her hand, a resistant flame bursting to life in her palms though less brightly. She turned to Nihil, and offered her hand on fire with a jest in her voice again. "Want me to dry you off?"

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

Thanks for reading!

Kina Listig

_{Kina Listig}

blood status:

Muggle-Born.

age:

11

gender:

Male

personality:

Intensely private and reserved, Kina will not share his life story within the first hour of meeting, or indeed the first year. While he doesn’t actively seek out sociability all the time, he can swallow his introversion to take the first step in meeting someone. Still, he will remain quiet for the most part, and tread cautiously.

Interpersonal Relations | He doesn’t step headlong into trust, but he retains faith in the best in people at first encounter – only losing it should they prove otherwise on repeated counts, and even then perhaps not. People he is comfortable with are few and far between, but Kina knows to accept wholeheartedly those who are willing to put up with him, his reservations, and his caution. His confidence in people outweighs his own. Kina knows as much, but he reckons that this keeps him humble.

Copes with Silence | After a long day, Kina tends to retreat to his room and shan’t emerge until he has been submerged in his own silence long enough to face noise again. If not given the chance to do so, he will withdraw into himself, and won’t say a word unless someone actively tries to rope him back in. During rough patches, Kina copes with stress or pressure by going catatonic. Holding onto his words when he feels as though he is slowly spiraling out of restraint gives him the illusion of control, of having a say – by removing speech – in some part of his life. He has a tendency to plan ahead compulsively and gets immensely worried about the future, until he gets distracted by a task at hand. He does everything with effort and his best, and burns out easily. He may seem fragile, spontaneously slipping into a wordless unresponsive state without warning, but it appears sudden only because Kina won’t say a word or give any indication of what has been weighing on his heart beforehand. He hates to be a burden, especially since he can’t think of any reason why friends would bear with him.

Towards Others | Even if Kina is not very good at protecting himself, he doesn’t bend so easily when it comes to friends or people he cares about. He tries not to listen to rumours if they are baseless, and he won’t let whispers on the wind affect his individual perception of his peers. His method of comfort is highly characteristic of himself: he won’t give reassurances of another’s qualities even if he believes fervently in them. He doesn’t think his words will hold high value or large enough impact to right the wrong done. But Kina will stick fast. He would be the last to turn a back on a person, and he holds on through thick and thin. His loyalty is all he feels he can offer.

appearance:

Kina has brown curls that are almost always ruffled and messy. He is not very tanned but he is several shades darker than deathly pale from standing outdoors in open fields trying to shoot videos under the right lighting or from staying under the sun longer than necessary coaxing a squirrel or some other small woodland creature onto his viewfinder (photography and videography are some of his passions). His eyes are a molten hazel brown and his pupils are large giving him a perpetually wide-eyed look, accentuated even further by a tapered chin. He is thin and slight, and looks to be on the delicate, scrawny side. He bruises easily.
Kina’s clothes often hang off of his narrow shoulders at best. Sometimes they swim on him. In Hogwarts, with the billowing robes and positively voluminous outfits, it is a safe-bet that Kina’s uniform will look ridiculously loose and ill-fitting on him.

wand material:

Sycamore | Unicorn Tail Hair | 12 inches | Supple

boggart:

If he were to face a boggart, Kina would be facing himself. A spitting image, a reflection. Only, it wouldn’t exactly be him. It would be Kina in vagrant clothes, Kina with the gaunt look of the way-less and lacking, of those who have failed to accomplish in their lives, who have left nothing for their parents to be proud of. And before his eyes, the boggart in his form would dissolve, until it had faded away, not even a wisp of what once was.

other:

Kina once knew a girl who was his very best friend. He had never known a relationship so close, where he could lean on her for support. He didn't know that that meant placing in her hands the power to walk away and unbalance him. Falling once might have been hard enough, but she had a tendency to walk away in anger and then return after she was happy again, until Kina was praying for the good days, and bending backwards to keep her pleased and pleasant. It was a friendship that wore him out constantly, but he began to believe that if he were to try his best and not make mistakes, he wouldn't make her angry, and he wouldn't fall down so often. So really, his friend would comment now and then, if he had to struggle to his feet bruised and battered from yet another drop, it was his fault.
In the end, it tore him down, and learning how to lean came more and more slowly to him.