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| N E M O |

 

| Latin: no one, nobody |

 

| 19  Years - Young |

 

| ♂ |

 

| Prophet |

 

| Demisexual |

 

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albino on Behance

 

Nemo was born in a rural area in the state of Iowa, living with his two parents, Joel and Amy. However, when he was birthed, Nemo was a stillborn. His parents never imagined a scenario of this nature. They did regular checkups to ensure that the fetus remained healthy throughout the last trimester. His family was small; his mother an only child, and his father had one brother named Archer who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn. Only his grandmother from Nemo's mother's side, who lives in the city near Archer, was the only one left as far as previous generations. A loss such as this was catastrophic to them.

Joel went to Archer seeking help, knowing his brother was a professional in dealing with supernatural phenomenon. Archer refused, informing that meddling with life and death only led to more punishment. Joel kept begging, brought to his hands and knees in tears , knowing that Archer knew of a method to bring life into his stillborn son, no matter how many times his brother kept refusing and telling him to move on with his life. Reluctantly, Archer succumbed and informed Joel of starting a deal with a demon, but Joel had to be ready to offer his life for his own son. With slight hesitation, Joel agreed, if a life for a life were the case , he knew his son must live on. When discussing the topic with Amy, she was distraught of the fact that a life had to be taken, but Joel reassured her that it was for the right thing and his role as a father would be accomplished by this task, and how Amy had a role of his mother to care for him in his absence. With just as much reluctance as Archer, Amy agreed to Joel's plan. With Amy's permission, Archer would then inform Joel of what he had to do next.

 

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Joel waited on an empty dirt crossroads in rural Iowa, bringing the ingredients needed and drawing the necessary sigil to summon a demon. Several minutes later, a small woman with fair skin and dark raven hair appeared before him. She wore a black dress meant for a wealthy dinner party, and yet here she was in the middle of nowhere. The demon looked rather bored of her situation, this would be like any other deal in her perspective. That is, until she heard the true name of Joel's son whom he wished to trade his life for, a spark of interest glistened in her eye. However, she refused Joel's offer, and selfishly, Joel offered the life of his wife as well, for them to live until Nemo turned eight. The demon then accepted his deal and kissed Joel to seal it.

He arrived back home with a somber expression, going up to his wife to inform her that not even deal has been done but she was included as well. Confusion and grief merged into one, she was speechless, was a demon so evil to ruin the life of a child. Joel reassured her that Nemo was special from the very beginning, and probably would do certain things that were not humanly possible and the demons were jealous. In the silence after Joel spoke came Nemo's cry that he was alive and awake, and in that moment, nothing else mattered except for their living, breathing son.

 

 

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Nemo had more health problems than behavioral as he grew. He was born albino, so his ghostly pale skin could not withstand the brutal sun in the rural area. Nemo always looked sickly from his complexion, even though it wasn't the case, so no matter what the weather, whenever he roamed, Nemo would always wear a hoodie and jeans to cover himself up. His gaze caught people off guard the most, one eye a dull grey and the other a piercing, metallic blue.  As a toddler, Nemo always had reoccurring nightmares of people he had never met and horrible events that led to their demise. He would sneak into his parents' bedroom and sleep in their bed for solace, and even though there wasn't enough space, they would allow him there for the rest of the night. Some nightmares he had a third person perspective, and watched in a corner of the room as someone was brutally murdered. In other dreams, he would take the perspective of either the victim or the murderer and wake once the deed was done. This led Nemo to attain a severe case of insomnia, until the premonitions started to occur during the day. If he were lucky, some days he would have very pleasant visions.

The day before Nemo's eighth birthday, his parents decided to celebrate it that night with his uncle Archer. They informed Nemo that he would be living with his uncle from henceforth, giving the excuse that the environment for him at home didn't allow Nemo to get any fresh air until a storm brewed, and that living in the city would give him a brighter future and plenty of shade from the harsh sun. Nemo reluctantly agreed to live away from his parents, they hugged him tighter than he expected and wept as they saw Archer take him into his pick up, waving goodbye until he was out of sight.

 

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 The road trip was extensive, Archer did not bother to speak to Nemo, giving one worded answers to whatever questions he asked him.  It felt as though Archer had a grudge against Nemo or something of the sort. He drove through the night, stopping only for gas, until the reached the hustle and bustle of the city. It felt more claustrophobic, whatever nature was around was choked by concrete, brick, and asphalt. However, it was indeed cooler in temperature than the countryside, despite the sun being out. Archer parked in front of an old brick town home, with wooden wind chimes clacking together in a gentle breeze. He told Nemo this was his grandmother's house, and he would be staying here with her for the time being. She was a tall, thin woman sagging skin and silver hair, wearing brightly colored, loose-fitting clothes. She smelled awfully funny to Nemo, that old people smell perhaps, and was a huge believer in spirituality. She sensed something mystical about the boy, and Nemo proceeded to tell her about the nightmares he consistently had. His grandmother told him that it was gift, even though it felt like anything but. She gave  him a dreamcatcher she had woven herself to try the lessen the nightmares. Nemo found his premonitions to decrease just by a small amount, but just so much allowed him to sleep. Nemo was homeschooled by his grandmother, and one day, she revealed a secret about herself when Nemo was ten. She practiced the mystic arts in her spare time, a witch is what others would call her. once taking part in a coven herself. His grandmother gave him an old, small book in which she was an expert in all the spells to which she only needed to think about the spell to cast them. He practiced them with small objects between his studies. One day, she came home from shopping with a white husky puppy with heterochromia, saying it reminded her of Nemo and decided to leave it under his care. He decided to name the female puppy, Tundra.

 

Nemo was more at peace in the city, as his parents predicted. There were the occasional sirens blaring in the distance, but it never bothered Nemo much. His grandmother had all sorts of novels, from Shakespeare, to Jules Verne, to J.K. Rowling. Nemo's original name was Godric but he enjoyed the novel by Jules Verne, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, that he wanted to name himself after Captain Nemo, his grandmother allowed it and so he was called. However, fate had been cruel to Nemo, and one dreary morning he found his grandmother having passed away in her sleep one morning. From a list of contacts, he would call his uncle to tell him the grave news, weeping on the phone as he did. Archer appeared in no time, living in the same neighborhood, and called a professional to deal with Nemo's grandmother's corpse. In the mean time, Archer told Nemo to gather whatever he needed to bring back to his apartment. He brought his favorite novels, his spell books, and some of his studying material as well as Tundra. Archer wasn't so keen on keeping a dog in his apartment, but he didn't have any trouble so long as Nemo took care of her. 

Archer was never around, he used to appear once or twice a week just to leave groceries and have a beer before he left, but then he started showing up a few times a month. Now, he rarely is around, but Nemo has Tundra beside him for good company. In his absence, a rather major event occurred. Nemo tends not to leave the apartment too often, but he found himself struck by lightning within it, right through an open window. Nemo thought himself dead when a divine being appeared before him in the form of a bright light. A thunderous voice reverberated in his head as it deemed to be the Archangel of lightning, Barachiel. He promised Nemo that his gift of seeing a stranger's death was not a curse, calling him a Prophet, and that he would smite anyone that brought harm onto Nemo. As quickly as it occurred, the light dissipated and he was left alone with Tundra. Nemo believed it to be a dream, until someone grabbed Nemo on the streets in a threatening manner. The night sky was absolutely clear, but somehow a cloud began to form over the mugger and a bolt of lightning cracked down upon the other, burning him to a crisp. The thunder that crashed was almost unbearably loud, but what occurred that night made Nemo truly believe that he was a Prophet.

 

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Nemo is a reserved and introverted individual, keeping to himself because of what he thinks of his unsettling appearance. He doesn't speak often, but when Nemo does, his voice is quiet and soft. He doesn't enjoy too much interaction due to fear of whether or not he will see the same people he grows fond of dying or being killed in his sleep. Nemo has problems with eye contact, but he speaks perfectly fine. However, when he's alone or around people he's most comfortable with, Nemo finds himself much more talkative and acting rather silly, using whatever telekinesis he's capable of to intentionally annoy whomever he feels comfortable with.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He enjoys:

-Rainy weather

-Libraries

-Cafes [Small shops in general]

-Music [Classical, Instrumental]

-Animals

- Loose clothing/pajamas

-Practicing spells and telekinesis

 

He dislikes:

-Sunny/hot/humid weather

-Crowded places

-Prophetic nightmares

-Noisy, shrill-voiced people

-People staring at him

 

Worbz - Igor Klepnev

 

Nemo was born an albino, looking like a living porcelain doll or rather a spirit, but he views himself with the lowest regard. His skin is a sickly pale tone, and the hair on his head, brow, and lashes are strikingly white. Nemo has heterochromia, one of his eyes is a piercing metallic blue and the other a dull grey. The lining of his eyes appear to be a reddish-pink, looking as if he just wept, but in actuality he could be feeling completely normal. Due to lack of pigmentation in his skin, the sun is his sworn enemy, being very easily prone to sunburns. When he does appear outside in stormy weather or in the late evening, Nemo is seen wearing a large hoodie with his hood over his head and dark jeans, and walking Tundra. Indoors, he likes loose, baggy t-shirts and pants, pajamas for days.

 

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T h r e a d s

 

- Cassella

- Capricorn

-

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Rules

The writer is 18+, the thoughts and actions of my character do not represent my own.

-Murder/rape/torture toward Nemo will result in an immediate end to the rp.

-The character isn't looking for a parent/guardian, please avoid that to be the end goal of a plot.

-Concepts of witchcraft are mentioned at times

-Have fun writing! Do not hesitate to ask questions, I may have the answers!

-I also write as Agnes, if you want to write something more grittier.

 

 

FC: Sasha Moloko

VC: Hope Estheim - Final Fantasy XIII (1-3)

Birthday:

September 4


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  • hi, thanks for adding me! let me know if you wanna rp :)

    -yeoreum

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  • "Oh, hey there pup!"
    The boy's voice reflected a pleasant surprise. Kirishima crouched to a lower level and extended his hand out towards the canid, a stereotypical invitation to approach if the animal wished. Did he even notice the snow-haired boy that accompanied the dog? It was unlikely from the immediate looks of it.

  • He seemed a little more cautious of what she will do to his groceries rather than the possible commotion that has ensued, or the harm that she can cause. Can she rule that out as shock? For a young man who looked fairly calm on the sight of a human-passing carcass on flames, perhaps she was expecting… more. A little more elaborate, more substantial of an excuse other than a random dumpster fire. The woman looked unimpressed, but her lips were twitching. Was that amusement lighting up her eyes? Curiosity? She didn't seem to be too keen on calling him out in that regard, already darting away so casually towards the other end of the concrete path, before making a sharp turn to the right. Her steps were brisk, and for such small feet, she was quite fast, cloudy wisps of short hair bobbing along with the rest of her things.

    "Nowhere too bad~" Her reply was a feathery chirp as she seemed to pat herself all over, each landing tap seemingly making her flicker. Before they knew it, she was closing into a busier lane. The woman merely spent a moment to pause, mercury eyes roving about to survey the high street, gathering her bearings. The drizzle of rain has set, each frigid drop was faster and bigger than the last. "Cassella." A name was finally uttered, her gaze sweeping back at him to see if he was still following her. "You can call me Cass! And we're heading right there."

    The selection was obviously made on a whim. She was pointing out a cafe that stood on the corner of the block where they just emerged. To say that it looked inviting and warm was an understatement, from one glance alone perhaps it would be safe to say that this busy little place was on the higher end, with shelves upon shelves of pastries on display. Compared to most of those clad in sharp corporate or branded attires who went to and fro with cups of takeaways as they rushed about to avoid the inclement weather, this woman-- Cassella, in her smudged ensemble, looked rather displaced and worse for wear. And yet that didn't matter, for a city this preoccupied, most of the locals hardly paid any attention to most strangers.

    Or maybe it was something else? One thing is obvious, however, this sort of inconspicuous getaway wasn't her first. "I don't think I ever caught your name." If the young man was still trailing after her to the cafe's toasty entrance, this capricious woman would beckon for him to head in, at the same time allowing him the liberty of selecting their spot he will feel most comfortable with.

    "You can go wild and get what you like. It's on me."

  • Pale eyebrows twitched, as one look was cast at the flames. Smoke was certainly wafting out, the body still twitching all the while it was set alight. “I considered that, but I didn’t have much choice.” She sighed. “You know what, whether someone finds it or not at least he’s dead.” 

    It seemed like her hands didn’t go unscathed after all, parts of her fingers were already red from the superficial burn. With a sigh, she picked up the dropped grocery bag, taking a curious peek.”You already got marshmallows in here, and you gotta abandon a nice little bonfire.” The bag was handed over to him. “How am I supposed to believe that you’re not gonna tell on me?”

    While it did seem like the initial hostility was dying down, she seemed pressed to hear an answer. Before she could get that, however, Cassella already perked up, faded hair bouncing on her shoulders. If she was sensing anything or anyone approaching, perhaps her body language alone can already say that.

    “If someone sees you with that, they’re probably gonna think it’s you. Are you coming along?” 

  • Hi hi ^.^ thanks for adding me!

  • Disassembling the traps came next. The nearing presence already made her pause, and yet sharp eyes darted into the direction of the sound only when it was made. A flinted glare so intense, coming from glittering gray eyes, which only softened just for a fraction when she realized who walked in. A harmless teenager, from the looks of it, in the wrong place and the wrong time. Only inches taller than she was, just as pale, if not a shade more faded due to the contrast of the clothes he was wearing. What struck the mage, even from the distance away, however, were those eyes that bore different hues.

    “Well… what do we have here?

    She stretched, a few joints popping lightly as she did. Dusting herself off was futile after a fair share of rolling around. Grime stuck to damp clothing, and the incoming drizzle wasn’t helping to wash it off. Nimble on her feet, she slid a few wooden charms in her bag, dauntlessly advancing forward. A brief, sweeping gaze was made, from head to toe. All seemed well. “You don’t seem to be one of them. That’s a plus.”

    Cassella was now within arm’s length. The glow of the fire behind her only made her look menacing for someone so small, but at least she hasn’t made an aggressive move so far. 

    “You’re not planning to run and just tattle me off, are you?”

     

  • [ Your character is so cool. What a lovely concept! ] 

  • “Oh, for fuck’s sake, why do ya’ll have to be so loud?”

    This city is… enormous.

    On a very usual afternoon, enormous isn’t exactly the word that she will use to define the place that swallowed her in its maze so easily. No urban jungle is too intimidating for someone who can't be expected to stay in one place, who has drifted in and out of the troubles of its underbelly. No city is too big for a wanderer such as she, a woman armored in loosely layered cardigans, floral dresses, and scruffy worn-down shoes, treading her way around in commute passes, ticket stubs, and by foot. 

    The past three days have been a grueling exception.

    The human mind has odd little tricks like that, making an easy task so overwhelming if it's something that they somewhat disliked. If this wasn’t such an urgent task she would still be tucking away her brooding ass off somewhere in the city coasts, hellbent on a fruitless search of her own. Duty calls true, however, and she was the closest one to receive it. Tracking something down is one thing. Observing them and finally baiting them in a very convenient place is another. This wasn’t the first time she has been out for blood if there was any to shed, it’s just the first for a very long time, and she was just eager to get it over with as cleanly as she can. There was no guarantee that she’ll get out unscathed in the scuffle, but a few bruises and burns didn’t seem to be so bad.

    A dreary, misty November evening found a ghostly smaller woman pinning a squirming larger figure on the damp grounds between a set of dingy low-rise buildings. A pale hand already had a man by a firm chokehold, nails digging down the sticky, clammy skin. The other was clamped down to the face in an attempt to muffle all words from escaping. Cassella Sullivan’s viciously thrashing target was an older man, seemingly in his late forties. A figure quite tall and almost lanky compared to her delicate, stunted appearance who seemed to be delivering a disproportionate amount of strength to keep everything down. And now, cue the screaming.

    It wasn’t just a scream-- not even close to incoherent pleading. It was a cacophony of screeches strung out from a mangled throat, an assortment of voices rising out that shouldn’t belong to a single person. It still rang out, loudly so, despite her attempts to stifle it all. Loudly so, that she was almost alarmed that it will be heard from a mile away. The more that she restrained, the louder it got. A spark of white first erupted from her hands, more like a brief glimmer. Fire sprouted next from the gaps of her parted fingers, flickers of pure white flitting out. The wailing only grew from there, a mixture of both rage and perhaps, terror, her entire body almost buckling briefly from the force of the movement beneath her. She took a slow, deep breath, silver eyes never leaving her objective and --

    Release. The fire in her hands finally roared, tongues of dazzling white flames leaping out in full strength. It was a radiance so fierce enough to cast a momentary glow in the depths of that cramped little area, brilliant enough to illuminate the space. The alleyway that was strewn with severely dented metal bins and an assortment of trash overturned from all the struggle earlier. The vandalized brick walls adorned with peeling posters, and the shattered lamp posts overhead. The girl who finally backed away before the rest of the fire can do any damage to her, patting the grime and the mud off from her soaked clothes and the thing-- the man who was just lit on literal flames, still pinned by some invisible force. The way the body floundered around, the uproar of the screams leaving a charring throat. There was now the rising smell of burning meat, hair and sulfur -- but at least she had the reassurance that her fire will be faster than that.

    As the first drops of the night's drizzle fell, hopefully, the rain will wash that all away soon enough. 

  • -plasters Nemo's name tag on said smol plant- 

  • It was to Spencer’s mild surprise that the apartment was unoccupied once he had passed through the door. It saved the immediate introduction, and let the man drop his tension for just a moment. Without thinking, he searched around and flicked the main light on in the room. The window illuminated from the outside, leaving the mage out of the shadows in the room. There was a time where he wouldn’t have dared to take such things into his own hands. That time had passed so long as his… circumstances were what they had been. Little to nothing had changed in the apartment, confirming the boy still lived there. 

    That was where he would be found. Nothing had been tampered with besides the leaves of a few plants. They were left alone as soon as the rest of the lights flicked on within the apartment. The door opened to an understandably startled Nemo. It wasn’t every day a figure was ready and waiting in one’s living room, was it? He wore a navy jacket that fit loose to his frame, with its hood down. A white long sleeve dwelled under it, matched with dark jeans and a set of boots that had seen their fair share of travel. His messenger bag was drawn over his shoulder with a palm grasping the strap loosely. 

    “Hello again,” Spencer responded. He mustered up a smile, watching with a glint of amusement when the dog just couldn’t decide on him for a moment. As Tundra approached, he bent and lowered his hands down to the dog’s head for a moment and scratched along her jawline gently. “Hello to you too,” He greeted in a smaller tone. The man’s attention wouldn’t dwell on her long before he straightened up and looked to Nemo. He gave the younger a once-over. Something about his aura had changed, hadn’t it? Time had a way of affecting people on all levels. 

    “You remember me. I’m glad,” Spencer murmured, whether it was to himself, the other man, the dog… there was something listless about the tone. “Pardon my impatience of letting myself in.” The man took a seat on the couch, opposite of where he had parked himself so long ago. His posture remained upright rather than leaning too far into it. “Tea… if it is no trouble,” Spencer responded. His hand meanwhile found the top of Tundra’s head. Was he wrong for being here..? With mid-afternoon in motion, he still had time to decide. He still had time to leave.

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