this is my default for all interactions in a modern setting , please ask specifically for K/DA if youâre looking for idol akali.
name:Â akali jhomen tethi
nickname:Â kali, rogue
age:Â 23
birthday:Â may 11
star sign:Â taurus
gender:Â cis female
pronouns:Â she/her
orientation:Â bisexual
ethnicity:Â japanese & korean
nationality:Â japanese
height: 5â˛3
build:Â athletic / muscular in the arms & legs
hair colour:Â black
hair length:Â tailboneÂ
eye colour:Â deep brown, appear red in some light
skin colour:Â tanned, olive undertones
scars:Â Â
education level:Â home schooled until 16
occupation:Â assassin / mercenary , affiliated with the tokyo yakuzaÂ
[ bracketed is for modern fantasy verses only ]. tw. for implied sexual assault. ( not the case but worded in such a way that it could trigger someone ). minor tw for alcoholism at the end.
you grow up under the keen eye of the kinkou : an organisation with balance as its core tenet. [ balance between mankind and spirits, thatâs how itâs painted to you as you grow up. ] you exist to enforce this balance, to maintain it without judgement. under your motherâs wing you donât question it -- you just want to make her proud. but you donât, you canât be what she wants when her eyes are elsewhere, caring more for the girl she wishes you would be.Â
at just nine years old you lose everything. a wayward acolyte returns to the kinkou and slaughters your people -- your friends, the people youâve come to call family. you donât understand. how could a child understand? you close your eyes and try to forget. youâre brought to safety in the mountains beyond the temple, accompanied by your mother and a handful of other acolytes.Â
the kinkou try to rebuild, with your motherâs expectations building tenfold in the wake of your fatherâs death. you push yourself to your limits, forcing yourself to be good enough to inherit your motherâs title. at fourteen you start your official training, and your talent soon becomes clear to those who matter. your handiwork with both kama and kunai is second to none, [ even regardless of your lack of magical talent. ] each passing day is spent not only training but studying, though it is through these lessons you learn just how complacent the kinkou have been.
mortals die every day and nothing is done to stop them. balance seems to be less about saving people and more about being complacent. you canât stand it. everything youâve trained for seems like a lie. at sixteen you confront your leader, denouncing the kinkouâs ways and leaving everything youâve known behind. itâs a mistake, but you refuse to listen to more of their precocious lies.
the outside world is tougher than you first imagined. thereâs no safety to be had in numbers, and no familiarity in these cold, mean streets. with not a penny to your name you rest wherever you can, using the skills youâve trained since birth to steal whatever you can without getting caught. you slowly begin to realise that without violence, thereâs nothing left of you. a weapon is all you are.
and so you decide to use violence to your own advantage. you lie in wait outside the most popular clubs, waiting for the rich and inebriated to come stumbling out. you corner them, a knife to their throat -- even with a clear disadvantage in build, you know how to end things quickly. the only thing your mother taught you was how to kill.Â
a year goes by with little change: you make just enough money to survive, and frequent an apartment that lets you stay there for cheap. itâs a far cry from the comfortable life you lived before, but it makes you feel more alive.Â
eventually, your luck runs out. you threaten the wrong man, and youâre forced to make a choice: put your skills to good use for him, or die nameless in a ditch somewhere. your immediate answer makes him smile -- a sickening image thatâll never burn out of your mind. you see it in your dreams, sometimes.
he drags you by the arm to his car, breathing his liquor loaded breath all over you for the entire journey. youâre handed booze, cigarettes, who knows what else. youâre in no position to refuse, so you do as youâre told. the rest of the journey and whatever happened that night remains a mystery.
you awaken branded, a fresh wound on your hip to remind you who you belong to now. a cell phone rings beside you and you fumble to pick it up, answering with a slurred âwhaddayawantâ only to be reminded who is on the other end. he gives you your first job, instructions spelled out clearly and concisely. youâre to put an end to a rival, quick and clean. just like that, years of learning to kill are finally put to the test.
when you stand over the body, you feel nothing. no remorse, no sadness... only relief. you only did what you were born to do, after all. youâve earned your keep, impressed those that matter. itâs all you care about. what a far cry from the balance youâd set out to uphold. you spend your first pay recklessly, hoping the dopamine rush will distract you from the life youâve fallen into.
and it does, for a time. until you awaken the very next day on the same floor with the same cell phone beside you. your particular set of skills seem to be highly in demand for those who need them, and it pays. this, you suppose, is better than being forgotten in the dirt somewhere without a chance to climb out of the hole youâve dug yourself. one day, you promise youâll turn the tables. until then youâll keep your head down and obey, be the perfect little assassin youâve been bred to be. maybe one day youâll become so numb to it all that you wonât have to drink yourself to sleep every night. maybe one day it wonât haunt you any more.