As a frigid winter gale ripped through the streets of New York City, a teenage mother-to-be had just finished grocery shopping for her choice of the night. A nice tall bottle of Vermouth, a brown paper bag crudely wrapped around the body and label. The ditsy teen didn't seem to realize that alcohol doesn't warm you up, it only cuts off the receptors in the brain that help alert the body of it being below the normal temperature.
Plopping her chunky frame down onto the park bench, she leaned back and downed a quarter of the bottle...half the bottle...
The mother truly believed nothing was wrong, until the first drop fell. Then another. And another. Then what seemed like a large bucket being poured onto her feet. Confused at the warm feeling, she looked down at the snow beneath her legs, seeing the small infant laying in the snow, crimson and pieces of unnecessary organs around it. Letting out a shrill scream, the young girl picked up the infant, unsure what to do.
The young girl ended up running to the closest hospital, which took the baby away from her, plugging the infant into the ICU. It would be days before the vitals of the baby could be determined. The mother was long gone, with no record of her even being there. The baby was given a name by one of the officials on her case.
Her name was Diya Ozaki.
Diya was put into an orphanage once she was cleared with good vitals from the hospital. She had never cried, or...at least what the doctors knew. See, her vocal cords weren't exactly fully developed. She could mumble, she could wheeze, but she could not speak. Her life in foster care was hard, since all the other children wanted nothing to do with her. She had no friends other than an old teddy bear she found from the child who once slept in her bed.
Turning eighteen, she was released from foster care. She was given two pair of clothes that would fit her, and about six hundred dollars in cash. The only thing she was told was there was a bus waiting to take her to the apartments she was set up with until she found a job within three months. Diya did in fact find a job, one that doesn't require talking. Since she was really good at sewing when she picked it up in foster care, she obtained a job as a tailor at a local shop.
The tailor shop has given Diya the chance to meet a lot of people. Business, punks, etc. It seems she is always stitching up some punk's wounds after a knife fight, or just a missed jump on a skateboard. They come to her, because it's a lot cheaper than going to a hospital. Plus, she's very friendly to them. They sort of...treat her like a sister, like family. Even though they are up to no good, she still enjoys the company they give her, even if it's only for a little bit...
Since getting this job, Diya has picked up sign language, finally giving her that voice she's been searching for all her life. There aren't a lot of people who understand sign language, but she always hopes she will meet that one person who can have a decent conversation with her someday. But, for now, a girl can only dream.
Relationships/Family:
Diya doesn't have any family, or friends in her life. But, she hopes that will change.
Appearance:
Diya stands at 5"6 with somewhat of a thin frame, though some curves are visible. Dark ebony locks don her head, reaching her shoulder blades, usually pulled into a side ponytail for work, or left to drift behind her in long waves. Her skin is an average tan, not too light, not too dark. Her eyes are a nice shade of dark turquoise. She is now at the ripe ol' age of twenty-three.
Facts about Diya:
~ Diya's job is one of the highlights of her life. Even if she is off, she will find something to work on, whether it's a small hole in the curtains, or fraying fabric of jeans.
~ Her favorite meal is any type of fish, but catfish is her favorite.
~ She has pets! A hedgehog named Thimble.
~ Diya is super kind and a good listener when someone is having a bad day.
~ Diya has always cut her own hair. She is secretly afraid someone will cut too much off and ruin her entire life of growing it out.
Rules of RP
~ At least four sentences for a reply. If you give me little, I'll give you less.
~ 18+ activity is here. So, if you are young, you have been warned.
~ I also love to Roleplay in many ways, so don't be afraid to ask for a different setting.
~ Have fun! That's what we are here for, right?
Comments
As Jett pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air, he drew in a deep breath as if he’d narrowly escaped a dangerous situation. Relief washed over him; he was glad to have sidestepped that complication. He could barely recall the details of the encounter, but it was another nuisance he’d successfully avoided. Taking a few more steps, he was suddenly brushed by a rush of motion—a woman darting past him before spinning on her heel to face him. She began signing with her hands, gestures that, while seemingly innocent, felt out of place in this gritty neighborhood. It struck Jett as odd that he didn’t know sign language; it was just another skill he had never deemed necessary, content with his proficiency in English and a smattering of other languages.
Jett leaned back slightly, eyeing her with a mix of curiosity and disinterest as she fumbled with her phone, typing something quickly. His green eyes flickered over the screen, and a faint recognition stirred within him. Ah, yes. She was the mute woman he’d encountered some time ago, when he had needed an eyepatch repaired—a piece of clothing she would have seen him no longer wearing. His gaze shifted between her and the phone, trying to place her name. It would eventually come to him, but for now, he chose a different approach. So much had changed for him since then, and yet here he was, lingering in this grimy city. He wondered what had changed for her. What was she doing in a bar? His memory of her was of a timid girl who kept to herself, dedicated to her work, with no apparent friends or family. Had he been wrong about her?
"Forever isn’t long enough," Jett replied to the message on her phone, his tone noticeably colder than it used to be. His gaze wandered to the street behind her and then to a darker road off to the right. He considered which park bench would serve as his refuge for the night. "You shouldn’t be out here," he continued, his voice carrying a genuine note of concern. "It’s dangerous. Go home, Diya."
Her name surfaced in his mind like an old, forgotten tune. Memories flickered of his visits to her shop, checking on the progress of his repair work, and her curious questions about his gambling habits. Those days felt distant and inconsequential now. He had little interest in rekindling old connections. With a final glance at her, he turned and set off towards the right, embarking on a path that promised only uncertainty.
New York City sprawled out before Jett like a labyrinth of concrete and steel, its skyline a jagged crown etched against the night sky. The city that never slept buzzed with neon lights and the constant hum of lives intersecting in a chaotic ballet. Jett Morningstar wove through the bustling streets, his presence almost swallowed by the throngs of people. The once-vibrant red of his hair now appeared as a muted auburn in the dim glow of streetlights. The curse of the Void weighed heavily on him, manifesting in the subtle slump of his shoulders and the quietness that cloaked his demeanor.
The city's sounds were a relentless cacophony—car horns blaring, distant sirens wailing, and the endless murmur of pedestrians. Jett moved with practiced ease along a familiar route to a seedy bar nestled in a forgotten corner of Hell's Kitchen. The flickering neon sign cast an eerie glow over the entrance, a beacon of disarray in the night. He pushed open the door, greeted by the familiar stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke, a scent as old as his regrets.
Inside, the dim lighting and low murmur of conversation provided a deceptive semblance of peace. Jett made his way to his usual spot at the end of the bar, a vantage point where he could observe without drawing attention. He lit a cigarette, its tip glowing warmly in the gloom, and ordered a whiskey. The bartender, a grizzled figure with a permanent scowl etched into his face, acknowledged him with a curt nod and slid the drink over without a word.
Jett took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he studied the amber liquid swirling in his glass. Memories of a particular Fae haunted him, her loss a wound that refused to close. The Void’s poison twisted his thoughts, blurring the line between reality and the nightmarish visions that plagued him. He took a sip of his drink, the burn of the alcohol providing a momentary anchor to the present.
His reverie was broken by the creak of the bar door. His green gaze flicked towards the sound, catching glimpses of faces as people entered and exited. One figure after another came and went, but Jett's attention eventually drifted back to the counter and the bottles of liquor arranged behind it. He studied the faded labels, their significance lost on him as his mind wandered. This had become a routine in his life over the past few years. With his sister gone, Ceres gone, and everyone else faded from view, he was left to navigate a life that seemed increasingly meaningless. What, he wondered, did he truly want now?
Heya,
Just letting you know I'm still around. Finally recovered from my injury enough to walk. Needless to say, the last two months I've been a busy body, keeping away from the screen for a bit and doing some stuff outside! I'll be on soon and we'll get a good storyline going!
(Yeah, I think what might be best right now is just having them meet back up. Maybe Diya is being hunted now, since her father?? is trying to kill her or at least suppress her powers. I think after a few times, Jett would be like "bruh wtf??" It might lead him to discover more about her and make a decent story ya? )
(Yes! I'd like to see Diya get a little stronger too! Jett isn't all that much of a white knight anymore. He will eventually go back to the way he was, or pretty close to it. But I wanted him to be thrown into some chaos for a little bit. It might be a bit hard for him to connect with Diya or atleast stay in her presence 24/7. I'm wondering if Jett can help her get her abilities back. Considering Jett is a son of Lucifer and not a Demon, he places higher in Hell than Demons do. Most son's of Lucifer would command Demons or atleast have authority over them. A lot of higher-ups don't listen to Jett since he doesn't/ didn't spend a lot of time in Hell. But I assume Jett would atleast know Diya's father or have heard of him. Not to mention it's pretty ironic that Diya is mute and needs her voice to use her abilites because so does Jett. He also has an ability to echo his voice - basically break silence -
Ah! Maybe that's why Diya is drawn to Jett or atleast the two hang out a lot; considering he'd biologically be a surperior to her. We've got so many directions we could go with this now that I'm thinking about it. We've just got to find a fitting plot to push along. Jett is infected with the void right now from Ceres - I'll get her on my profile's Relationship section eventually. - He does get a little violent at times now, it's uncontrollable. I just wanted you to know, he most likely will make advances towards Diya or other NPC's in the story - Violent advances that is LOL - Well maybe he will have an attraction to Diya since she reminds him of Ceres.. Hell I don't even know where our plot should go now!)
I'm late night typing here... That's when all the best ideas come out! zzzz Sleep time
(Hmm I'm not really too sure. Now that I've changed Jett a bit, I've gotta get into his funk to write. He's just a bit more moapy. He may be a bit more aggressive. Hope you're alright with that. The Void infected him and he does things destructive he can't control at times. Did you have any ideas, anyway I can fit into Diya's story again? Maybe we can push her story along a bit?)
( Heyo. Wanted to reach out and see if Diya still wanted to write with Jett after his changes. If so, I'll probably start somewhere new - setting wise. They were just gambling anyway xD A lot has happened to him, so he's still Jett but just different. If you don't use Diya though we can write on Ryan or whatever works for you. Just figured I'd reach out and see if you were still interested. I had a hard time writing with him this last couple of months because his storylines were tied up in so many of my friends main storylines, but they've all finally came to an end and I was able to fix Jett's stuff accordingly )
And so like any day, night rolled around. Jett had expected to meet Diya here at the coffee shop. While they didn't actually devise a meeting place, this was the only place the two had previously met beside her tailoring shop. Perhaps to her distaste, Jett hadn't actually changed all that much. A white wifebeater showed under an open black jacket. To accompany that, a pair of jeans and some dark colored shoes. The jeans had a distressed tare near the right pocket, showing the fabric that lay underneath. Of course, his attire didn't matter. That eyepatch was always over his eye.
The coffee shop was still open. It was around eight in the evening as Jett came down from the elevator and entered the same space he and Diya spoke in earlier. Another person stood behind the counter. It appeared Raul had gotten off work for the day. The coffee shop was slow in the evenings. In fact, it was completely empty. Dim lights illuminated the area. Every table had been cleaned and chairs pushed in. More than anything, the shop was ready for the morning rush.
Jett stood at the counter for a moment, examining the new girl behind it. He'd not seen her before, though, he hadn't actually been home in a few months. His sister was gone, so he supposed someone had to take the evening shift. His visible eye shifted its gaze to the door before his body moved to follow.
Pushing the glass door open, a bell dinged off announcing his departure. He wasn't actually sure if he'd see the Weaver again. Perhaps she just wanted something fun to do during the day. Perhaps she wouldn't show? Either way, Jett pulled a package out of his jacket's pocket and flipped the lid open. Pulling out a cigarette, the redhead put it between his lips and put the carton away. A lighter came out of the same pocket. Flicking the switch, he lit his cancer stick. Taking a long drag, Jett exhaled as he leaned his back against the glass of the coffee shop and waited.
(Hey, no problem! Curious about what your goals are for Diya. With she remain human? Will she gain the ability to speak if this is more of a fantasy setting? Just my own curiosity. It may help push our storyline along. I can think of a few ways she could fit into Jett's current main story actually.)
She reached her hand to his face. For the moment Jett was paused. The millimeter movement, however, was enough for Jett to shift his head along with his gaze to the right and out of her reach. Clearly for both of their protection, though mostly hers, in this case, Jett could not risk his newly crafted eye-patch being removed. A small sigh escaped through his nose as though he regretted his last action. Either way, it is what it is.
As she withdrew her hand back to herself Jett refocused his green gaze upon her. Once more, his hand slid over the eye-patch as if to assure himself that it was indeed there. As she twiddled with her fingers, Jett moved passed her and towards the door. He turned only to view the Tender who had recently made the duo their cups of coffee.
Her head tilt of uncertainty only caused a sighed, "What?.." from Jett's lips. "We can't do anything until tonight. Go home." a pause. "Change your clothes. Something a bit fancier maybe? Red would work."
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