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N. . ĘŹ. . x. . Ęź. . á´ś. . É´. . á´€. . á´…. . á´€. . Ęź. . E
Shadowhunter. â—† Twenty. â—† Female.a p p e a r a n c e.
______________________________________________________________________________With eyes gilded in the colour of rose quartz with blooming wreaths of near diluted flame panning outward, Nyx, like many of her lineage, is a creature of many visual flaws and flaxen statures, instead of willowy tall and imposing, they stand with chins notched up high - to distract and remain noticeable - and brows fixated in brooding exteriors of all-knowing glean. The sort that peer yonder flesh and bone to glimmer and glance at the soul and heart lain within. Nyx is diminutive for her age, and thus easily misguided within battle, compacted with near translucently that gives way to a waif impression that is assumed eternally waning. Though, when impressed and validated by the Mundane eye, Nyx is entirely unassuming, a delicate creature blanketed in cloth of mediocre affairs that interchange between spools of violet and silver. When not enveloped by a well donned glamour, Nyx dons for typical threads of Shadowhunter traditions; various shades of monotonous black and grey with only a silver locket donned thrice around her neck, emblazoned with the descending moon of the Lunadale homage that falls unto the rich lore of her given name. However, Nyx is a carefree and almost lazy sort, the lackadaisical woman that shuffles thin, pale scarred gestures through haphazardly willed waves of sallow hair that is almost white, the infliction of the bloodline draining colour and palour of mortal hue from skin and hair alike. Feathers of gold wreath outward through the hidden layers within her hair, darkened slowly to the roots at her nape were a curious mark eternally lays as a silvery patch of impaled tissue, scars of varying thickness and pain lie and envelop over the other and lay as a constant reminder to the work of her kith and kin.
Aside from the scar of battle and descent, Nyx is typically wreathed in smaller applications from the Marks graced to her skin often, as is every individual of her particular niche and kind. The Mark that wills her eyes open and all-seeing, is blazoned onto her left hand, as is most - if not all - of her nightly gifted family. Her visual, with deeply set eyes and heavy lids of somber observation and charming glances, is not a traditional sort, being constantly speculated that something else lurks within her veins and lays down in the past of her family.
. . .p e r s o n a l i t y.
______________________________________________________________________________Nyx is lax; unbound, un-willed, and often a creature of freeing spirits and wants. She heralds a whimsical candor of sorts, rising and falling late within the hours, always drifting yonder boundaries and venturing into places usually ill-advised. She's assumed almost careless and lazy in her endeavors, trading blows of sarcasm and wit with lilted phrases and chortles of a bell like cadence. Her applications of socializing are usually granted to her brother, who excels more so in his attempts to help forgive her oft-lacking methods of tact. Nyx observes and speculates on her fellow warriors in a sort of playful camaraderie, that they all advocate for the same benefit and dream of a peaceful existence, and woefully hopeless in their endeavors, despite all successful hunts and missions perfectly executed. Her belief of Downworlders borders a too curious mindset, easily befriending those she comes across with a swift banter that is perhaps a tad too suggestive and open, willingly allowing her glamour to fall and shed whenever she encounters them. Her uttered explanation falls onto that they are the same; half-breeds influenced by forces beyond their comprehension and control, thus uniquely of the same plight.
She enjoys slight affairs, never going beyond the extra mile or attempt, performing actions at a simplistic pace, never within a rush or a hurry. The idea of urgency never inflicting her actions, Nyx does things at her owns whims and wants, all within the binds of the Covenant, but there are loop holes, and sometimes she exploits these to her own benefit and enjoyment, much to the constant dismay of her peers and family. But, Nyx is not blasphemous or disrespectful to the Clave, and now considered an adult, she's aware of the burdens of such a life and eagerly tries to remain beneath the radar with skill and power alone. As if hiding behind intentional laziness and listlessness to avoid some sort of offset responsibility.
Curiously, Nyx is rumoured to harbour a form of a demented death wish, the kind that translates to a manic method of battle, in that she purposely propels herself within the line of injury and welcomes pain eagerly with a queer sort of anticipation to the awaiting blow. It's always at last minute that she reacts and responds, as if jerked within action and her reactions sudden and fierce in reflection to her every day life and performances.
. . .s k i l l s & a b i l i t i e s.
______________________________________________________________________________Like all Shadowhunters, Nyx was bourne and trained for a life of battle, constant scars and constant hardships and raised to meet them head on. She can peer yonder glamours and wills extraordinary strength in comparison to Mundane creatures, but there is always the hidden layer or mortality in her blows, even with Marks laced and written over her skin to ensure victory. Her specialty lies in close quarter blows, using her diminutive figure to sweep in low and hard, undermining the opponent by their stance and often aims for the legs first, before engaging them further. She wields a myriad of throwing knives, her preferred tool blended with the common use of Seraph blades and wire twined with electrum.
Her Marks are a usually a blend of attempts to increase her speed and empower her usual fearlessness, to bring strength and power amidst her blows and ensure she does not fall or falter. She enhances her dexterity along side these, to implement her trained use of the throwing knives to keep her aim true and her reflexes fluid. While usually planting these marks upon herself, her brother is the one to usually do so, who bears a knack for quick rune application.
. . .b i o g r a p h y.
______________________________________________________________________________The Lunadale family falls under legacy and rumour within the Shadowhunter realm, the sort that heralds a dark past but tends to never deny or explain such and allows others to believe and think what they will. Their family is slight, not quite large - at least compared to some - but holding enough influence to be heard of on a few occasions. Mostly in reflection to their eerie similarity upon all of their featurettes; all pale skin, nearly white hair and eyes of bright, worn out colours of rose quartz; varying in shade and intensity. Typically, one generation produced one child, considered well enough in terms of means and continuing the family line, so long as they too became Shadowhunters like all before them. It implanted a sensation and practice of legacy, to live up to predetermined standards and fate to ensure that the Lunadale sigil of the descending moon beneath clouds of night would not wane beneath other lines that sired might and further strength.
So, it was with quite a shock when Nyx and Nox were born, Lunadale twins - unheard of, thus rare - and successfully inducted through test and ceremony in receiving their first Marks and training to each of their strengths; within meres days of one another with results identical to every point and observation.
However, it was evident that they were different. A sort of skewed perspective, only slight, like a gentle, sloping axis that came with the unique kinship of two that were so alike within youth and candor. Nyx was oft silent, she refused to speak, or simply lacked the capability to do so. She communicated through wide stares and probing gestures that bid Nox to respond for her, who, even within youth, spoke eloquently and with a wide, wreathed smile of jovial wonder and intent. It was noticeable that Nyx was a wandering sort, the kind that often found herself lost but always would Nox be able to find her, they bore that sort of connection, and trouble and mischief seemed to canter after the young child; impish like and delicate. It was difficult to imagine such a slight creature to be donned within the blackest of runes and wielding knives of a fierce gleam and sharpness, slick and silver with ebony hilts and emblazoned with runes of fell intent and purpose of strength. However she soon learned to wield that implied disadvantage to her benefit, for what better way than to lure a demon into darkened alley ways and depths than by the bait of a fair girl with bright eyes and snow-hued hair.
Nyx, through acute body language, muttered her first words with accentuated sighs and groans, until hunts forced the twins apart, and she was left to own devices. She spoke her first words during a solo endeavor, one that required an immediate back up against a ravenous pack of vampires gone rouge and manic, a manipulated hunt that saw her coming unto a trap. An eloquent, worn down flair of the mundane slur: "Well, shit."
Since that time, she has often been preferred to participate in hunts with another to shadow her, one that requires two to be partnered and paired and watch out for another. While Nyx has killed and slain more demons than her brother, it has not gone without payment to flesh and bone. She developed a Death Wish; a demented desire of release, a slave to the rush and method of victory. One that would see her mad and manipulated. After her near demise by the hands of pale-skinned deviants, the twins were sent on a hunt - under Nox's stern suggestion to see them paired - to bring down a stray creature that appeared lycanthropic, not one of the Moon Children, but a demon warped of fur and skin and a vicious set of tooth and claw that had brought down a fellow Shadowhunter in a feral rage. It was a true test to their capabilities, and whilst they brought the beast down, the both of them bore scars in reminder of their struggle; by nape and shoulder, skin flayed and marred.
Nox developed a protective nature of Nyx from then on, more so than before, even going as far as to undermine her hunts and take them upon his self, to see that she does not receive the end she so suddenly craves. One would assume that it would frustrate the woman to no ends, however she has delegated Nox to do what he pleases and has curiously optioned to remain within the backdrop of his sudden rise of talent and purpose. She could care less for the legacy of the Lunadale family and its' small numbers, her family and her estranged, thus placing a slight and increasingly ill strain onto Nyx, Nox and their family.
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