NERO HWANG / FAMILIAR
(SALAZAR PIT VIPER)
intro. stats. wanted.
penned by bright. affiliated with bound krp.
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@bruisednscarredd
NERO HWANG / FAMILIAR
(SALAZAR PIT VIPER)
intro. stats. wanted.
penned by bright. affiliated with bound krp.

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JIUNG - P1Harmony 9th Mini Album [UNIQUE] CONCEPT PHOTO #3
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES NERO A DULL BOY. A LITTLE PAST MIDNIGHT IN THE GRAND HALL. FATED WITH @bruisednscarredd
✞ . THE MIRROR DIDN'T REFLECT THE HALLWAY QUITE RIGHT and though it's a subtle, almost unnoticed shift, it's undeniable that something feels OFF tonight. she comes to a halt in front of the glass on her way back to her bedroom, eyes staring at her own reflection, noticing that it looks like her, but truthfully, it doesn't feel like her, even though it's dressed in her pajamas, barefoot, hair wild and windswept from roaming the grounds in the dead of night. behind her disheveled figure in the reflection, the candles lighting the hallway flicker where they couldn't, and the shadows cast along the walls stretch where they shouldn't — it all seems a little out of sync, a little distorted, a little UNNERVING despite the fact that she walked down this hallway at least a dozen times during the daylight.
SOMETHING SETTLES IN HER CHEST and eunbyeol pushes her tongue to the roof of her mouth, staring at her reflection as though she's waiting for it to do something. to move, to scream, to reach out and grab her shoulders. it does nothing of the sort, simply stares back, quiet and creeping, the expression on her face settling in her ribs like something she couldn't quite place. the air shifts again, this time distracted, perhaps curious, as though it's attention has shifted from the witch standing there to something else. there's a pause, and she turns, the candles flickering as she catches sight of something slithering down the corridor.
EUNBYEOL bends down when she sees the VIPER and instead of shying away from it, she simply greets the animal, crouching down as if she's taking to an old friend.
"HEY MR. SNAKE," she says, voice disturbingly chipper despite how unnatural the atmosphere of the hallway has suddenly become. she presses her elbows against her knees, cradling her jaw in one hand as she gestures at the hallway around them with the other. "i think something isn't taking so kindly to students wandering the corridor at night," the words leave her with a slight accent, perhaps mirroring that of a certain movie. "you should head on back before something happens. it's dangerous, you know?" the words leave her with sincerity, though it seems to have gone over her head that she was most certainly more at risk than any other person in the vicinity. having DEATH SENSE wasn't exactly an offensive ability, after all.
THERE'S A STILLNESS that follows her words and the witch goes to stand, catching the sight of something RED tracing itself across the mirror. she turns, head tilting, just as the words REDRUM tapper off across her reflection. eunbyeol blinks, seemingly unfazed, before she looks down at the serpent at her feet, pointing to the mirror as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "see?"
the viper’s scales catch the flickering candlelight as he pauses mid-slither, coiled low but not in retreat—just watching. the witch’s voice is too calm, too bright, for the way the air hums with something off, like a plucked string left vibrating in the dark. his forked tongue flicks out, tasting the distortion in the air, the metallic tang of something not-quite-right. “mr. snake," she says, like he’s some stray cat and not a predator who could sink fangs into her wrist before she blinked. nero doesn’t hiss, doesn’t strike—just tilts his head, slit-pupiled gaze locking onto her reflection in the mirror. the word redrum bleeds across the glass, and he doesn’t so much as twitch. “see?” she asks, pointing, like this is a normal conversation. like they’re not standing in a hallway that’s wrong.
he uncoils slightly, tail flicking once in what might be amusement if he were in a better mood. the witch doesn’t smell like fear. she smells like curiosity, like the kind of person who’d poke a sleeping viper just to see what happens. “you’re not scared,” he observes, voice a dry rasp in her mind—not spoken aloud, but felt, like the hum of a plucked violin string. his scales shift as he slithers a half-circle around her feet, testing. “stupid or brave. haven’t decided which.” the mirror’s reflection warps again, the candles flickering in ways that make his instincts prickle. he doesn’t like it. but he likes her lack of screaming more. that’s new.
nero lifts his head, rattle a soft warning as the shadows stretch unnaturally along the walls. “that’s not blood,” he notes, nodding toward the mirror. “not yet, anyway.” he could leave. should leave. but the witch is still crouched there, unfazed, and something about her easy acceptance of the wrongness makes his venom hum in interest. “you always talk to snakes in hallways?” he asks, tongue flicking out again. the air tastes like ozone and old secrets. “or just tonight?” his tail curls around her ankle—not to trap, but to test. if she flinches, he’ll vanish into the dark. if she doesn’t… well. maybe she’s worth keeping an eye on.
/// I'd walk through hell on living feet for you
I would burn the world to bring some heat to you ///
(Hymn to Virgil, Hozier) (Devilman Crybaby, 2018)
(Art is NOT mine. If you know the artist, reach out so I can credit!)
tw: self-harm, slight gore, blood.
“oh, my love ... it always was a game to begin with!”
the crinkle of a candy packet and rupture of melodic laughter stripped of warmth breaks the silence— yes ... she must warble so, not out of nervousness but out of amusement; distal phalanges entangled amid obsidian locks. guided, careful gait into the threshold of the forest, the slightest jingle from the discordant bell tied to dove’s wrist.
dove’s fingers are warm where they cradle him, but nero doesn’t relax into the touch—his coils stay tense, his body rigid as a drawn bowstring. the redretch’s stench hits him first, that sickly-sweet rot of decay and hunger, and his fangs ache with the urge to sink into something, anything, to keep it away from her. “fun,” he hisses, voice a vibration against her skin, “you’ve got a warped sense of it.” his slit-pupiled gaze locks onto the creature as it emerges from the shadows, its form flickering between spectral and solid. the air reeks of iron and something older, something wrong, and nero’s tail flicks in agitation. he doesn’t like how dove’s grin sharpens, how her blade glints with blood magic, how she steps closer like this is just another tuesday. his coils tighten fractionally around her arm—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her he’s there. “we’re not killing it,” he growls, low and warning. “we’re capturing it. unless you’ve forgotten the point of this hunt.”
the redretch’s howl rattles through the trees, and nero’s muscles coil tighter, ready to strike. dove’s bell jingles with her movement, the sound grating against his instincts. he wants to snatch her back, to drag her to safety, but he knows her well enough to recognize the set of her shoulders—the way she’s already committed to this stupidity. “you’re going to get us both killed,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat in it. just the familiar, simmering frustration of knowing she won’t listen. his tongue flicks out, tasting the air. the creature’s closer now, its form solidifying under the blood moon’s glow. nero’s venom hums in his fangs, his body thrumming with the need to move, to end this. but dove’s already raising her scythe, her laughter light, reckless, and something in his chest twists. “fine,” he snaps, “but if it takes a bite out of you, i’m not carrying you back.”
he doesn’t wait for her reply. with a fluid uncoiling, he slithers down her arm and onto the forest floor, his body low, his rattle a soft, ominous hum. the redretch’s attention snaps to him, its spectral eyes locking onto his movement. god. let it look at him. nero’s tail lashes once, a signal. his fangs bared, he lunges—not to attack, but to herd, to distract, to give dove the opening she’s too stubborn to wait for. the creature snarls, its form wavering between beast and shadow, and nero’s venom burns hotter. he’ll keep it busy. he’ll keep her safe. and if she still manages to get herself hurt? well. he’ll deal with that later. right now, there’s a hunt to finish.

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“go back to the dorm. now.”
was enough to jolt dove awake from her groggy stupor. brows knit together, lily—labrum pursed with diminutive sigh. leaning against rough bark﹔willowy arms wrapped around self offering little to no warmth against midnight breeze. “tch,” tongue clicks, girlish moue evident on her face. “geez, so bossy!”
onyx orbs gaze upon scarlet moon, “i joined the hunt, remembeeeeeeer?” dulcet drawl rasping at the ends of locution, idle motion that soothes, but it clearly does the exact opposite—she was getting on his nerves, clearly trying to prove a point. doe hues incline toward serpent—eyne, albeit half—lidded in languorous abeyance, cranium canted askance to find idle reprieve ‘gainst tree trunk. “and i think it’s in our best interest if YOU came with me on the hunt,” petal—lips curl upturned, ever slight, ﹠ parted for the zephyr of a laugh. “or you stay in your tank in the dorm.”
blood hums in the air, thick, like the aftertaste of a half-healed wound. nero’s human form stands rigid between dove and the forest’s edge, his body angled just so—shielding her without touching, a barrier of fangs and frustration. she’s close enough that he can smell the lavender on her skin, the faint metallic tang of her own magic, and it pisses him off how easily she dismisses danger. his fingers flex, claws pricking at his palms. “you think this is a game?” his voice is a growl, low and rough, but there’s something else beneath the venom—a thread of panic, thin and sharp. the redretch’s howl echoes in the distance, closer now, and his instincts scream at him to move, to hunt, to end this before it finds her. but dove’s already stepping forward, chin lifted, eyes bright with that stupid, reckless defiance he knows too well.
before she can argue, his bones twist, his skin splits—human form dissolving into sleek, deadly scales. his viper body coils low to the ground, iridescent black patterns gleaming under the crimson moonlight. “stay close.” the hiss is softer this time, almost lost in the rustle of leaves. he doesn’t look back. he doesn’t need to. the forest knows his intent, the redretch knows his scent, and dove—dove knows better than to test him tonight. his rattle hums a warning as he slithers forward, every muscle taut, every sense locked onto the hunt. one wrong move, and he’ll strike. and if anything touches her? he’ll make sure it regrets it.
she threatens to lock him in his tank—like that’s ever stopped him before. for a second, he considers calling her bluff. but then she’d just follow him anyway, and the thought of her out here alone, with that thing lurking, makes his venom burn. “fine.” the word tastes like ash. “but you stay behind me.” his voice drops, quieter now, dangerous. “and if i say run, you fucking run.” it’s a lie, and they both know it. but the threat hangs between them, heavy as the blood-moon’s glow.
by the time dove had woken up in a cold sweat, it had already been midnight ... blanket on the floor, skin prickling from the cold night breeze, and … a missing familiar. the faint lappings of crimson moonlight, a kiss upon cytherean dove’s porcelain skin, a soft yawn escaping her lips while picking up her coat and finally walking out of her dorm room in search of a sneaky serpent.
the blood-stained moon hangs heavy in the sky, its crimson glow seeping through the skeletal branches like a wound. nero doesn’t need to see the redretch to know it’s out there—somewhere. the air tastes wrong, thick with the metallic tang of magic and something older, something hungry. his viper form moves soundlessly through the underbrush, scales brushing against damp leaves, his forked tongue flicking out to taste the night. he shouldn’t be out here. neither should she. but dove has always been reckless.
he hears her before he sees her—light footsteps on marble, the rustle of her coat, the way her voice cuts through the dark like a blade. she sounds annoyed. worried. like she actually gives a damn. his tail flicks in irritation, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn. not yet. instead, he slithers up the trunk of a gnarled oak, coiling around a low branch to watch her. the redretch isn’t here. not yet. but the night is young, and the blood moon is rising. he knows it’s coming. he can feel it, the way his venom hums in his fangs, the way his instincts scream at him to hunt. dove steps closer to the treeline, and something in his chest tightens—not fear, never fear, but something sharper. annoyance. she’s going to get herself killed one of these days.
with a slow, deliberate uncoiling, he shifts, the change rippling through him like a shudder. human again—cold skin, slit-pupiled eyes, fangs glinting in the moonlight. he drops to the ground in front of her, blocking her path with a glare. “you’re supposed to be indoors,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. his fingers twitch at his sides, itching for the hunt, for the fight. but dove’s here, standing too close to the dark, too close to the things that lurk in it. “or did you forget that the redretch isn’t picky about its meals?” he tilts his head, watching her with the predatory focus of his viper form. “go back to the dorm. now.” not a suggestion. a warning. because if she doesn’t, he’ll drag her back himself—and he won’t be gentle about it.
hey friends! call me bright (he/they, 24, gmt+8) i’m buzzing in excitement, i can’t wait for you to meet my angy lil snaek boy nero hwang. i’ve written a tldr of his background, personality, and appearance. you can view them under the cut. i’m cool with messaging over tumblr ims or through discord (available upon request), so just reach out (or leave a ❤️ on this post) if you want to plot!
THE BOY WHO BECAME A VIPER: A LIFE UNRAVELING.
tw: fire, attempted murder, child abuse, body horror, themes of abandonment and isolation.
nero was born into a family of hunters, a bloodline that saw monsters in the dark and made it their duty to destroy them. his father, a man of ruthless precision, believed in purity above all else—even above his own son. when nero was thirteen, his father discovered the truth: the boy carried the blood of a familiar, a demon in human skin. the solution was simple. burn it out of him.
his mother, a woman of quiet defiance, had spent years hiding nero’s strange habits—his fascination with shadows, the way his eyes sometimes flickered like a serpent’s, the way he could sit still for hours, as if waiting to strike. but when his father dragged him to the courtyard, dousing him in oil and striking a match, she made her choice. “run,” she whispered, shoving him toward the forest as the flames licked at his heels. his father’s screams of betrayal followed him into the dark.
nero didn’t just escape the fire. he changed in it. his transformation was not a gift but a survival instinct—his bones twisting, his skin splitting, his human form dissolving into the sleek, deadly body of a salazar pit viper. the pain was excruciating, but the betrayal was worse. his mother had saved him, but his father had tried to erase him.
the forest became his refuge, but it was a harsh one. he learned to hunt, to hide, to trust nothing and no one. the cold seeped into his bones, and the silence became his only companion. he was no longer a boy. he was a predator. and the forest whispered that he was exactly what his father had feared—a monster.
from the moment he shifted, nero felt it—the invisible thread tugging him toward something. he resisted it with every hiss, every strike, every scar he carved into the hunters who dared to follow him. he did not want to be found. he did not want to be bound. but the thread only pulled tighter, and the forest whispered her name like a curse: dove.
nero remembers his mother’s hands, the way she smelled of lavender and ash, the way she pushed him into the dark to save him. he remembers his father’s voice, the way he called him abomination, the way the flames roared like a living thing. he does not know if the boy he was is still alive. he does not know if he wants him to be.
THE CURSE OF THE SHIFTING SKIN: A FAMILIAR’S BURDEN.
nero is bound to shift between human and salazar pit viper forms, neither of which feels entirely like him.
human form: tall, lean, with sharp features that never settle. his eyes are slit-pupiled, his tongue forked, and his canines elongated into fangs. his skin is cool to the touch, and his movements are fluid, almost unnervingly silent. he hates the way people flinch when they see him.
viper form: a salazar pit viper—jet black scales with iridescent green patterns, a rattle that hums like a warning, and eyes that glow like embers in the dark. his venom is a living thing, coiled in his fangs, waiting to be unleashed.
THE SERPENT’S NATURE: A STUDY IN CONTRADICTIONS.
strengths:
protective to a fault: nero will destroy anything or anyone that threatens dove, his witch. his venom is a weapon, but it is also a shield.
observant and patient: he notices details others miss, and he waits for the perfect moment to strike—whether with fangs or words.
loyal (when he chooses to be): once nero commits to someone, he is all in. his loyalty is not given lightly, but once given, it is absolute.
adaptable: he thrives in chaos and order, shifting between human and viper forms as needed, though neither feels like home.
weaknesses:
prone to brooding: nero carries the weight of his past like a second skin. he broods in silence, his thoughts a storm of venom and regret.
self-destructive: he has a habit of lashing out—at himself, at others, at the world—when he feels trapped or overwhelmed.
possessive and paranoid: he struggles with the idea of losing control, of becoming the monster others see in him. this fear manifests as possessiveness and distrust.
emotionally guarded: nero does not trust easily. he keeps his emotions locked away, revealing them only in fragments or through actions rather than words.
THE VIPER’S TEETH: CONNECTIONS FORGED IN VENOM AND FIRE.
tba. right now, i don’t have anything mapped out for his potential connections. though he’s definitely open to anything and everything. let’s brainstorm!
Song of the Day #437
"Cruel" by Jackson Wang from MAGIC MAN, 2022

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