. . . 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 ? .. 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 . based on thevariantrp , with an original character imagined by z, the writer. please dni if you're not a part of the group ! ' THE LOOK OF THE MOON WHEN SHE SWALLOWS THE LIGHT .. ' naiyana ‘ni’ natharuetai , professor of media, secrecy, and disclosure. mimicry control, 35. * davika hoorne .
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Time as a flat prairie, ravaged by the wind and sun. She supposes in another life there would have been some resemblance of a focused woman, one who is not so easily distracted and pushed off course by a ghost of her past. Naiyana had, however, noticed that there is a pattern within her lapses of judgment. Occasionally off - balanced sails that direct her towards a yearning or a desire, rather than ambitious delights. Not so much drawn to sirens upon the rocky shore ⸻ but something beneath the surface. Black waters and their allure. How soon does she swallow seawater in the depths? Either way, she feels like treading water around Mauricio. A hummed out thought as she walks, some textbooks hugged tightly to her chest. “ You are so quiet today. Have you finally had an epiphany of what to do when the entire world tells the truth? “ A light shrug, there’s a hoarse laughter from the other end of the hallway from a group of students, but it blends into the world like anything else. Noise and more noise. A little breath of a laugh, surprisingly girlish and a tad on the patronizing side. “ One of your abilities would be useless, my dear. “
Said the serpent to the wolf: some nights one must listen to their target breathe, just to count the moments in between existence. This has been paranoia’s arrival, she thinks, birthed in the pit of despair that all her ancestors had crawled from no doubt. Naiyana sits on the leather seat, a smell of old books under her nose. The professor’s office was a palace of culture ⸻ she is observing her assigned colleague who sits across from her with a careful judgement. He held strong principles and often spoke of anti - containment ideals with vigorous passion. Yet she couldn’t help wondering what deaths he had been a part of. What does this man know of suffering, she daydreams, and soon after that thought she imagines how quickly the teeth rot from those who pretend to be sweetened by humility. “ So are you going? It is a quick mingling of the faculty, what harm could it be, hm? “ The conversation begins without honey, she oozes indifference, although her elegance seems to dull the blade only slightly. There is a mug of tea to the side of her that has now cooled ⸻ Naiyana studies him with the thick sensation of curiosity. Still, she boils ⸻ the feeling of a stopwatch paused on the deadline’s time. She stands, slender hand outreached as if for a handshake even if they’ve known each other for years. Now, she is a siren. All coldness from before has dissolved into this feigned show of slippery reverence. A light plea follows and her vessel's eyes sparkle, “ Come with me. You will at least offer an intelligent conversation, no? Good company is so rare these days, I am offered either cheap or cruel companionship and want neither. Understood? “
The wound pales before it bursts. Min, with all her teeth and nails, barely could keep herself above the dirt of self - acceptance. Graves have a way of caving in. Naiyana had been in one. Swallowed down the soil and the gravel, crawled out a god ⸻ or something as starved as one. She, with her hunger and her hunger’s eyes : watches the stutter in the other’s resolve as if deflecting her inner thoughts. As a professor, she had a responsibility with the students. To become both something they could admire and someone they could go to whether in fear or curiosity. Min, although not ever showing this vulnerability, had often caused a softening alongside Naiyana’s exterior similar to that of her sibling ⸻ in an orphanage long ago. What could have been. “ What are you listening to? “ She questions this lightly, her gaze hardened like usual, but the voice floats along with a voice that had not been her voice for some time now. She motions to the other’s headphones, not quite expecting to be heard by her the first time around. “ The song. It is an angry one, no? “
Naiyana had been studying men for a very long time. How they curl their tongue when they lie. How they choke on obsessions as though they are wadded up pieces of newspaper. She wonders how long it would take for River to be in the dark again, pun intended, and to see the moon above him as the only blinking eye in the world. Some men only show their teeth when pushed. He seemed too docile for her ⸻ but what use is a bad dog, anyway? Her pulse trudged through the moments like snow’s slush. A slow blink up at him, the work on her desk ignored for the time being. “ Was it the lecture you had a question on? ” A twist of her smile, it’s patient, but cold ⸻ voice hummed out with the condescending patience of a school teacher. Sound out the vowels, note the subject of the sentence. How they all would shy from her presence if they knew what was in her mind. A parasite is always hungry. Vicious animals they all are, she thinks, and she decides she is unsure if she’s speaking of humans in general or the men of her own species. She knew she had an intimidating approach to teaching and she heard students whispering in the halls. It bothered her no less than seeing her twin walk away from her when she was a child. Lessons hurt sometimes. An angle of her head as she tilts up to glance at him, “ Or the upcoming exam? I’m a vault for hints, I’m afraid. “
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the look of the moon when she swallows the light; no depth only filth! the god of a dead woman ⸻ i remember how the black mud coated me and i waited until winter ⸻ that cold resurrection that feels like a knife’s edge. i lie in my grave and you’re the worms in the dirt, i am always in your belly ⸻ unfed. now i'm winter ….
' I AM STRIVING TO BE A GOD . . ONLY MEN WANT THAT TEMPORARY POWER OF A KING , I DESIRE RUTHLESS WINTER '
name NAIYANA NATHARUETAI nickname(s) NI dob NOVEMBER , THE TENTH age THIRTY - FIVE , 35 pob OMSK , RUSSIA gender CIS WOMAN pronouns SHE OR HER orientation HETEROSEXUAL , DEMIROMANTIC languages ENGLISH, THAI, RUSSIAN, SOME LATIN, GERMAN, DUTCH, ASL voice THICK RUSSIAN ACCENT style BLACK, BEIGE, OR WHITE ATTIRE. SILK SKIRTS, SLACKS, PANT - SUITS, SILK OR LINEN DRESS ATTIRE .. career CURRENT PUBLIC RELATIONS DIRECTOR FOR THE VARIANT INSTITUTION, PROFESSOR OF MEDIA, SECRECY, AND DISCLOSURE .. partners NONE ..
faceclaim DAVIKA HOORNE height 5'3 personality RESERVED, METICULOUS, MANIPULATIVE, AMBITIOUS, ELUSIVE, RESOURCEFUL, PRAGMATIC, OBSERVANT . * SHE KNOWS HOW TO SURVIVE ! scars A THIN SCAR ON HER LEFT THIGH FROM A KNIFE'S BLADE WHEN SHE WAS HELD HOSTAGE, HAIR IS PERMANENTLY SILVERY WHITE ( SHE COLOURS IT BLACK ), ROYAL BLUE SCALY SKIN WHEN NOT IN HER VESSEL'S DISGUISE siblings ONE YOUNGER BROTHER , POWERS UNKNOWN ... * WANTED CONNECTION ! parents UNKNOWN media inspirations NATALIA ALIANOVNA ROMANOVA , AGENT K * BLADE RUNNER , KATNISS EVERDEEN, MYSTIQUE, DOMINIKA EGOROVA, DAENERYS TARGARYEN, FANG RUNIN, JOHN WICK power PHYSICAL MIMICRY * mimics physical dna ... including voice. only of those living .. and those she has met in person ..
YOU ARE A SULLEN CHILD, YOU EXPERIENCE THE WORLD THROUGH THE EYES OF A GIRL WHO IS HAUNTED BY HER OWN FUTURE. YOU ARE BORN TO A MOTHER WHO HOLDS THAILAND TRADITIONS QUITE CLOSE TO HER CHEST AND A BELGIUM FATHER WHO STILL SPEAKS OF HIS HOMELAND OFTEN. YOUR TWIN, ALTHOUGH THIRTY FIVE MINUTES YOUNGER, ADMIRES YOU AND FOLLOW YOU EVERYWHERE. YOU LET THEM. YOUR STORY, LIKE MANY WOMEN’S STORIES, BEGINS WITH SURVIVAL. OUT OF THE WOMB YOU ARRIVED, ALREADY WITH THE TASTE OF BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH. YOU ARE BORN IN A CITY WHERE THERE WERE SNOW - STORMS AND POLITICAL SUFFOCATION, AN INNER BURNING THAT WAS NEVER - ENDING AND SOON YOUR SKIN GREW THICK WITH THE WEATHER. WHAT MAKES A CHILD? FLESH, BONE, BRINE, LOVE? AN UNEXPLAINABLE PHENOMENON BROUGHT ON BY THE ABSENCE OF A MOTHER, GRIEF OF A FATHER, PERHAPS. YOU REMEMBER LAUGHING AT THINGS THAT SEEMED ODD. A MOTH FLAPPING ITS WINGS AGAINST A HOT LIGHTBULB, THE SMELL OF SOMETHING BURNING ⸻ THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING BURNING. YOU ARE RAISED WITHIN AN ORPHANAGE THAT BREEDS AMBITION. IF YOU ARE NOT BECOMING A LORE - EATER, YOU ARE A FAILURE. THE HOME THAT IS NOT A HOME, BUT SOMETHING HUNGRIER. YOU ARE BURNING THAT MEMORY IN THE GUTTER OF YOUR BELLY. YOU ARE DIGESTING IT. IT MEANS NOTHING, ANYWAY. AND WHAT GOOD IS A MEMORY IF IT DOESN’T BRING VALUE? YOU DO WELL IN SCHOOL. YOU STUDY HARD, YOU PICK UP THE VIOLIN, YOU PICK UP MARTIAL ARTS, YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH BALLET. THINGS TO DO WHEN THE CARETAKER'S EYES ARE NOT VALIDATING YOU. THINGS TO DO WHEN THE CHILD FEELS THE HOME LIKE A BLACK - FLY FEELS THE MOUTH OF A HUNGRY BULLFROG. THERE ARE THINGS IN THIS WORLD THAT AS A TEN YEAR OLD GIRL YOU SIMPLY CAN'T RECALL WITH SHARP MEMORY. HOWEVER, YOU REMEMBER WHEN YOUR SKIN FIRST WAS NOTICED. ROYAL BLUE AND YOUR EYES WHITE LIKE SNOW. THE WAY PEOPLE STARE. THE WAY THE SUN WAS SHINING, BUT IT FELT LIKE A DEAD AUTUMN DAY. YOUR CARETAKER AND THE REST OF THE CHILDREN IN THE ORPHANAGE REFUSE TO TALK TO YOU FOR A MONTH. YOU FOCUS ON MARTIAL ARTS, LIKE JUDO, AND THE BALLET. YOU ARE BOTH THE TRANSLATOR OF MUSIC AND THE CREATOR OF MOVEMENT. YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR OFTEN NOW. A FACE THAT LOOKS AS YOU FEEL: GOD - LESS, HAUNTED, BOUND TO SOMETHING THAT IS FLUID LIKE WATER.
UPON EARLY GRADUATION, YOU ARE APPROACHED BY A RECRUITER FOR AN INVESTIGATIVE PROJECT IN NORTHERN CANADA, ASKING IF YOU WERE WILLING TO DO INTERNATIONAL WORK. THEY HAD A DROP OF INTERNATIONAL APPROVALS, REGARDING ISSUES WITH RUSSIA AND THE DISPLAY OF DENIED COMMUNICATIONS WITH THEIR CURRENT UNDERCOVER OPERATIVES IN THE FIELD. DESPERATE TO FIND YOUNG AND ABLE-BODIED PUBLIC RELATION OFFICERS FOR THEIR COMPANIES, THEY HAD OFFERED YOU A DEAL YOU COULDN’T REFUSE. IF YOU WENT THROUGH WITH THE INTENSE TRIALS AND TRAINING THEY HAD PREPARED STRICTLY FOR THOSE UNDERGOING DANGEROUS MISSIONS REGARDING THE NEW UPRISE IN MUTATIONS, THEY WOULD ‘FIX’ HER OWN MUTATION IN THE PROCESS. YEARNING TO BE CLASSIFIED AS NORMAL AND UNNOTICEABLE, SHE ACCEPTS. YOU UNDERGO VIGOROUS TRAINING FOR FOUR YEARS. UPON YOUR TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY, YOU ARE LABELED ACTIVE AND IS PLACED IN THE FIELD. YOU WORK FOR AROUND FIVE YEARS WITH THE MAIN DIVISION FOR PUBLIC RELATIONS WITH MUTATIONS. TWENTY FIVE YEARS OLD AND PREPARED TO BE A NIGHTMARE, YOU WERE RELEASED INTO THE WORLD: STEPPING OFF THE JET IN ENGLAND AS THE DARK - HEADED RUSSIAN NATIVE. A WOMAN YOU HAD LONG SINCE MIMICKED WHEN YOU WERE RIDING THE SUBWAY IN MANHATTAN DURING ONE OF YOUR TRAINING DRILLS. DURING YOUR TIME IN LONDON, YOUR ALIAS/DISGUISE WAS THAT OF A BALLET COMPANY OWNER. YOU WOULD ENGAGE IN SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS, AS WELL AS TRAVELING WITH THE COMPANY DURING LARGE RECITALS ALL OVER THE CONTINENT. YOU HAD NO LOVERS, BUT WOULD OFTEN ENGAGE IN SEDUCTION TECHNIQUES WHEN NEEDING TO EXPEL INFORMATION FROM THOSE WHO WERE DEEMED AS NEXT TARGETS, AND/OR LOOSE ENDS. YOUR FIRST KILL CAME EASY. YOUR NECK OR HIS, AND YOU CHOSE HIS. HE WAS AN IMPORTANT MOLE, BUT HAD BECOME TOO HANDSY WITH YOU UNDERNEATH YOUR SKIRT DURING ONE DINNER MEETING. SOON ENOUGH, HE HAD PRESSED THE HEAD OF A COLD GUN AGAINST YOUR HIP AND HAD DEMANDS SIMILAR TO THAT OF A HOG: BE SLOPPY AND SPIT, OR GET A BULLET IN YOUR LIVER. NEXT THING YOU KNEW WAS YOUR ELBOW WAS BREAKING HIS NOSE, AND HIS TEETH WERE RATTLING IN HIS MOUTH. STRANGULATION, WHILE THRILLING, IS SLOW AND OFTEN TAKES HEAVY CONCENTRATION. YOU HAVEN'T STRANGLED ANYONE SINCE. MURDER FOR WORK AND MURDER FOR SURVIVAL BECAME SYNONYMOUS. THE YEARS WENT BY, BLOOD-FILLED AND LOUD. THE END OF THE ASSIGNMENT WAS BOTH RELIEVING, AND TERRIFYING. YOU HAD BEEN ANOTHER'S IDENTITY FOR TOO LONG. YOU NO LONGER WERE A MUTANT, YOU NO LONGER WERE A GIRL, YOU WERE A GOD. ALL ACTIONS HAVE REACTIONS AND THIS WILL BE KNOWN TO YOU IN DUE TIME. YOUR MANIPULATIONS WITH WANTING TO DENY THE CONTAINMENT LAWS THE WORLD WANTS TO PUT IN PLACE HAS LED YOU DOWN A VIGILANTE ROLE.THIS IS A COMPLICATED WOUND AMID THE HORRORS OF BEING SOMEONE ELSE: WHAT IS A HEART IF NOT THE TRUTH-GIVER? YOU ARE TOO WINTER-BRED. RUSSIA IS NOT BEHIND YOU, IT IS SURROUNDING YOU. SUFFOCATING YOU.
IN LONDON, YOU ARE APPROACHED BY AN INSTITUTE THAT HAD TIES WITH YOUR CANADIAN INVESTIGATIONS HEADQUARTERS. YOU AGREE TO BE A PR DIRECTOR FOR SOME OF THEIR CONFERENCES WITH THE GENERAL PUBLIC, AS WELL AS TEACHING THE MEDIA, SECRECY, AND DISCLOSURE CLASS. YOU KEEP TO YOURSELF. YOU ARE A WOUND ON THE WALL, SOAKING IN ALL THE BLOOD AROUND IT. ALWAYS OBSERVING.
CONNECTIONS :
ONE / 001 ⸻ the red mirror ⋆〝 THE TWIN .. what it says on the cover. this would be the younger twin. ni and her twin were born in russia thirty five years ago, thirty five minutes apart. they were the youngest, and she arrived shortly before them. they were dropped off in the orphanage in omsk when they had turned five. pitted against each other at a young age, their childhood was a game of competition and overachieving. interestingly enough, her twin gained powers later in their life ( up to you ! ), but allowed the media to shape their thoughts and found disdain in ni's natural form, a clashing of broken hearts caused her to split apart from the only person who had offered her a home !
TWO / 002 ⸻ the boogeyman ⋆〝 THE INFORMANT .. your muse is an informant of ni's that is meant to spy and / or get close to anyone in the political world that may be taking the initiative to rid the world of mutant - kind. this informant is in debt to ni, perhaps she rescued them from a rather violent predicament, or perhaps there is a generations debt to her depending on age. i'm imagining the loyalty to ni grew over time and eventually they are a ‘red right hand' to her, so to speak. for a cold and reserved woman, she offers only slight warmth to this informant as praise. like drawing venom from a snake - bite, it has become something your muse craves. to any end. definitely can plot more out and the backstory (the beginning of said debt) could be entirely up to you !
THREE / 003 ⸻ the wind and the mountain ⋆〝 THE DEVOTED .. you met her long ago. when she was holding the form of a ballet dancer in new york. you are an old creature as well, like time itself crawled from your open maw. like a shark and a school of minnows, you both enjoy and hold disdain for this push and pull of life. you have history together, blood - filled and disgustingly long. nothing came of it. an old wound that opens and sours each full moon. love that hides in plain sight, yet unspoken of. a dark infatuation ... perhaps they had tried to kill eo many moons ago !