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@bottlednimet
Who wouldn't want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?
Eluvian

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NAME. Nimet Mataraci AGE & BIRTH DATE. 4666 & Fall of 2642 BCE GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her SPECIES. Demigod ( Hollowborn ) ABILITIES. Amalgamation & Soul Reading OCCUPATION. Owner of the Opera House, Professional Singer FACE CLAIM. Cagla Demir
biography
( tw cannibalism allusions, body horror ) First memories are never concise, glimpses of the world that cannot be processed but—
Nimet remembers the singing.Â
She will never forget the singing.Â
There is an ever present melody in her life, the soft humming that permeates her world from the moment she can remember. Careful hands join the melody, gentle and tender as they brush against her and her first true memory is reaching to grasp for those fingers, the instinctive fear of the touch disappearing bubbling like a beast in her chest.Â
It’s the first time she is ever afraid, but it isn’t the last.Â
Nimet is raised amidst song and dance on the Fall Court, toddling after father’s footsteps and tripping over her own feet as childish glee bursts from her lips. The court is her world, comprising an eternal autumn, cat sidhe and pixies that flutter around her as she tries to reach for them, her father and his warder ever present, ever watchful. The evenings are spent on her dad’s lap, clumsy child fingers reaching up to try and touch the peppery kisses on his hair as she laughs and follows along his singing with vocals that are considered clumsy by fey standards but angelic by mortal ones.Â
Her life is an eternal wonderland, one she wakes up in the most unexpected of ways.Â
There is no hiding that she is a hollowborn, not with her faster growth than any fey children, not with her dad’s honesty. Nimet knows what she is since she can remember, not realizing that it makes her different, that it makes her dangerous.Â
Until she is.Â
There is an ever present desire sitting at the mouth of her stomach, a hunger she cannot explain, cannot get rid of. Once glance, a world of melodies blooms from a being's soul, a more measured look and she can grasp their nature, their personality, their weakness and beyond. It’s a beautiful symphony, calling for her, urging her to reach out and bring it into herself, to cradle the beauty and the music and make it hers without a care of what it would mean for another.Â
She has always known that she can do it, too, that she can reach and swallow the world and become all she is not.Â
Her father calls her a blessing, and she wants to believe that she is, but she sees the other fey children and doubts.Â
Nimet sees their supernatural beauty, and finds herself lacking, she hears their melodious voices and finds her vocals clumsy and childlike in comparison, she dances with them and watches as they float through the steps while it takes blood, sweat and tears to be passable.Â
She knows no grief, no cruelty, but she has always known the heady desire sitting at the mouth of her stomach.Â
She wants and wants and wants and wants.Â
She wants to be the blessing her father believes her to be, she wants to be as beautiful as her friends, sing as beautifully as them.Â
Nimet wants to be good so very desperately, and the desire is all consuming.Â
It’s ever present, waiting at the edge of her teeth, sitting on the back of her throat. Awaiting for the right time to manifest fully, this ever present hunger for more that will not stop until the world is swallowed whole, until she is everything she has ever dreamed, the flaws that prick like thorns smoothed out into the perfection she sees on those around her.Â
The desire waits for an awfully long time, simmering and waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.Â
It all comes to head on a funeral, like many things do.Â
Grief had been a foreign entity for Nimet until then, mentioned and understood at it’s basic levels, but never truly comprehended.
Not until now.
Before her lies an empty body, one devoid of the melody that had surrounded her since she was born. Before her lies her grandmother, the woman that led her first steps, that cradled her limbs as she taught her how to dance, that told her stories of Eden and the world she had left behind.Â
She doesn’t understand why she is lying so still, can’t. The first time death touches her life, the first time she feels Thanatos standing behind her, and it is one of the people dearest to her heart. It is a wave of grief she is not capable of understanding, an overwhelming tsunami that falls upon her like a lion on a gazelle.Â
There is a body before her, ready to be lowered into a patch of carnivorous fungi. There is a body before her, about to be destroyed and returned to the Earth. There is a body before her, devoid of a soul but with potential that only she seems to see. There is the elegant curve of the neck that she has always envied, the few inches of height she had wished she had grown into and the vocal cords that produces the most beautiful of songs.
The Fall Fey singing their mourning ditty around her only see what has been lost, but Nimet?Â
She can see what can be gained.
The ever present hunger, the overwhelming desire, her desperate need, it strikes.Â
Nimet moves.Â
Desire unleashed, she moves as if in a dream, step purposeful despite acting entirely in instinct. No one stops her, not her father, not his warder, not the countless of mourners, thinking her a child unable to control her actions in her grief.Â
They are half right, not knowing she is not about to throw herself at her grandma’s body and weep. None of them are prepared for what is to come, not even Nimet who had held the instinct to consume at bay when she had realized no one felt it as she did. Her Soul Reading is known, seen as a marvel and a gift, a blessing.
This?
This will be seen as nothing but a curse.
Nimet stands next to her grandmother’s body, looking down at her, face wiped from all tears and hunger manifesting as she reaches forward to place a delicate hand at her cheek and pulls, tugs at the thread of desire on her gut that had driven her forward and whispered at her to reach out and sink her teeth on the flesh before her, to consume and make it her own.Â
Biting would destroy the delicate arches she wants to possess, though, so she keeps her teeth sheathed, despite the way her mouth salivates in need. Instead, the deliberate effort she puts into keeping her human form falls away and changes. Bones break, flesh shifts as she is connected to the corpse and envelops it into her own in a methodical, bloody pulse of flesh and tendons that swells and diminishes in a quick pulse, leaving Nimet behind.Â
Leaving the new Nimet behind. Taller, more delicate, ears pointed and teeth sharpened just as her grandmother’s were.Â
She opens her mouth and sings, reaching the melodic tones she had been unable to reach before and wants to laugh in glee, finally feeling like she can be the blessing she had been told she was.Â
Her back is turned to the mourners, she cannot see the horror on their face, the disgust and fear that fills the features of those who she calls friends.
She cannot see the anger in Fen’harel’s face at her desecration.
But she will feel it.
Her world is taken from her after that, imprisoned and judged by the Fall Chancellor, exiled without remorse as she is told that her father had been wrong, that she is not the blessing he thought, but rather a curse that had befallen the courts.
Nimet doesn’t see her dad before she is sent out of the Otherworld, he does not meet her at the edges of the Court, too loyal to leave it all behind.
Someone else is there waiting, though, a reminder that she is loved despite the malevolent hunger sitting at her chest.Â
Grieving, scared, desperate and afraid, Nimet takes her father’s warder hand and steps away from the Courts, knowing she will never see them again.
It’s the beginning.
It’s the end.Â
She doesn’t see her father for a long time after that.
personality
+ Perceptive, Charming, Adaptable. - Anxious, Self-Indulgent, Envious.
played by ori. est. she/her.
(☞゚ヮ゚)☞ click on the source link of this post to find #105 gifs of çağla demir from episodes 39-41 of the television series kara sevda (2016), as well as the rules you must abide by in order to use them. all gifs included were made by me and are size 268 x 170. content warnings include: food/eating. an alternative zipped file download can be found on the page. ☜(゚ヮ゚☜)
NOTE:this fc is turkish, please name them accordingly or don’t use my gifs.

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"Mhm, land of thuh free." Oakley raised his mug towards the lady before he took a seat; what was it Sawyer had said about people like this? The ones who felt like the sides of a warm spitoon? Oakley scratched at his head for a moment before he discarded the thought entirely; there was no use judging a book by its cover; well, it was a fine cover though. So what was he judging for anyway? "Ah've not had much in thuh way of a home, maah bub an I lived in thuh saddle awfest our lives." Where was Sawyer, anyway? There was milk here, so there was no point in Sawyer going out to get more. Far as Oakley could tell most of the people who came through La Musa didn't have anywhere else to go; seemed like a shame for someone like this. Oakley continued to enjoy his coffee as he asked, "What's a pretty gal like ya doin' ina place like this?"
"And the home of the brave." It's instinct by now, to finish the phrase with a little harmonizing and Nimet freezes as she does. Clearly, leaving the United States had been a good choice, if the irritating little ditty of their national anthem had become an instinct after singing it for sports games and other things alike. She hides the irritation carefully, knowing how American's are about their national spirit, and forces herself to blush in faux embarrassment instead, raising her gloved hands to cover her cheeks. "Apologies, I am used to singing the anthem and it just came out. Silly of me, I know," she offers as her explanation and sets aside her annoyance that she had done it in the first place. "In the saddle? Are you a rancher, then? Or one of the cowboys from the movies?" The inquiry is curious, meant to change the topic of conversation and carefully pry into the accent of his. She is lucky she traveled within his country, otherwise it would have been a trial and a half. "Oh, I like La Musa," she admits, lips pulling back into a pearly white smile that the spirits would know as a threat but any other would see as a kindness. "It's so full of history, and that gives it life in it's own way. Though, right now the company is proving to be far more charming."
who? @senatusstarters where? domus aurea tw: cannibalism notes: LOOK. I SAID IT. CANNIBALIST LADY.
It's not quite hunger, what drives her out into the Otherworld. Not quite. It's the desire itching on her gums, the saliva pooling beneath her tongue as she salivates to bring others within herself in the most intimate way she knows. She has expelled most of her arsenal, aside from her grandmother and a few necessities, and she feels empty. She wants and wants and wants and WANTS AND WANTS AND WANT. But she cannot consume. Not in Rome. Not when she has yet to fully map the political intricacies of this empire she has stumbled upon. The Otherworld, however? Open and wide, and so very dangerous after the last year? It's free game, a hunting ground for her pleasure alone. Nimet doesn't quite stumble back into Rome— Not with her maela still with her, not with her millennia of careful training — But she still gracefully falls from the Otherworld portal, landing on her feet as she hums a musical's tune and sways on the balls of her feet. Her stomach is full of demon flesh, quite the delicacy that is no longer in shortage, but she has not brought any of them into herself just yet. She needs her wits about her— even as she misses the voices and the comfort they provide with the knowledge that they will never leave her weather they want it or not. Still, she has been fed, and she has managed to avoid a mess, all but a few droplets of blood dripping down her chin to match the bloodied palms that she admires as a little giggle escapes her lips.
"Well that was fun," she admits, careful constructions falling apart as sharp teeth grin and she looks up to meet the owner of the footsteps. She had not killed anyone within Rome, after all, and she can argue killing those demons was in protection of the city. No need to worry about something as silly as a punishment.
who: @senatusstarters where: The Embassy
The holidays were difficult, it was a lonely time and she wasn't alone -- she had been adopted, there was a family that found her and yet the seats that stood empty were still loud with their absence. Her brother and her parents ought to be here and it was never going to be fair that she had to go on without them, at least she had stopped death and buried herself along with them. This time she sat on the opposite side of the bar where she normally stood, getting out to watch the drag queens perform a holiday number of let the ball drop. "I'll buy you a shot if you do five finger fillet." A wicked grin on her face.
A sweat head tilt, akin to a confused puppy, turns to face the human. A quick glance is enough to tell her that aside the muscles, the beauty and the scars, there is no touch of uniqueness on the other. A sweet, welcoming face, one that she can see enough similarities with her own face that there is no instinctive urge to reach out and pull the muscle from the skin, to keep the bone structure for her own. Instead, she decides to spare the other, something on her expression hauntingly familiar on it's loneliness. "I— Pardon? I don't think I should agree," she offers, sweetly, pausing just enough to make the hesitation convincing. "What about I buy you a drink, and you can tell me what is wrong? Drinking alone in the holidays is never a good sign, I have been told."
open starter ! location: Blud
She wasn't really welcome anywhere, that much the Follower understood. A Liche, a daemonfey, a leech stuck with an archfiend's soul within. Without looking at the other guests, Priya absentmindedly drank from her cup of blood, hoping nobody would notice the apparent odor vampire blood could have for non-leeches. Noting she could really remember. The less she thought about the party, about actually managing the whole thing and making sure everything runs smoothly and without bumps, the better Priya managed to just get over herself for once and enjoy what was going on around her. "After everything we ought to at least enjoy ourselves a little bit right?" she emptied her cup in one go and looked at the person next to her, "come on, a dance won't hurt?" the Liche furrowed her brows together.
Her eyes are not narrowed by virtue of her tight control on her features, but for those who truly know her — and those are very few indeed — can see the telltale signs of her hunger as she watches the woman pretending to be a vampire. Not a leech, not a fiend, not an Archfiend, something entirely different altogether. Her teeth ache on her mouth, ready to bite down in the delicate curve of her neck as she considers what consuming her would give her. Still, impulsive as she is, she is far from stupid, and she knows another predator when she sees one. This one might have originally been human, might be attempting to keep to the trappings of her former species — the one she betrayed, and isn't that juicy? —, but she is a monster wearing human skill regardless, and she is not one to try to consume those who would give a fight. Not when there is too many variables to account for. Head tilting in naive puzzlement, she sends the other a sweet smile and shakes her head, almost shyly. "I am here to observe, apologies. Considering, well, my body's role on the end of times, I don't think many would be able to enjoy themselves if I am amidst them."
@senatusstarters location: La Musa notes: yeehaw ( 1 per mun)
"Mornin'," Oakley fixed himself a cup of what had to be the worst coffee in the world before he looked towards the window. "looks like thuh snow is finally startin' ta let up." His drawl crept out in a faint hope that the person he was talking to even spoke English. Oakley's attempt at Italian was worse than this hotel's coffee, and that was saying something. They didn't look too lost when he spoke, but this weather wasn't something that the terror was at all used to. He also didn't think the Romans were used to it, but the outlaw had never known much about geometry. Oakley gestured towards the empty seat; some company was always better than none, "Ya mind?"
"An American? How quaint," Nimet muses, voice chiming like bells and reminding her to her maela, a comfort that never quite disappears as she is reminded that she will always be with her. Across the entrance hall of the haunted hotel, she can sense the silly little haunting spirits retreat as she approaches the Terror enjoying a cup of coffee in the middle of a magical storm. Curious, how none of the Senate's enforcers had not found the being on their midst. Curiouser, that he remained so close of the very glass that would return him to his previous form. Smiling kindly, she approaches him in order to get a better look to the twisted soul that remains after necromancy had been done with him, a predator stalking a sickly prey before deciding that it will likely taste rancid and it would be so much more amusing to see them flail around before their inevitable demise. Eyes softening, she shits before him and fixes her skirts, before sending him an earnest look. "You are awfully far from home, aren't you? Would you like some company? I know traveling can get so very lonely."

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