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TL01 NUVA

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About TL01 NUVA

Year 12
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    Seeker
  • Birthday 10/15/1994

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    she/her/hers
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    SCP Site 13
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    I'm an artist with a passion for LEGO building and video games!

    I am not as shy as I may at first seem...

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    Toaoflight01

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  1. IC: Raika, Oki refugee camp . . . Brush snapped and twigs clawed as the Dasaka tumbled and staggered through the undergrowth. Cut twigs smoldered and the smell of burnt sap followed them as their daggers, clutched in a death grip, heedlessly cleaved through the greenery. It was all for naught. They stumbled slightly, then it was all around them. The trees had given way to the smoldering remnants of their home village. They choked as smoke filled their lungs. Tripping on the arm of a fallen Dashi, they twisted onto their back and scrabbled for their dropped weapon. It loomed over them. Firelight glinted off of oily red, metallic armor. The smell of fire and ash and charred organic tissue flowed around Raika until the tormented Dasaka felt ready to vomit. Two slitted, smoldering eyes stared back at them. Raika scrabbled for their blades, but the further they reached, the further their weapons were from grasp. The thing's face opened, and the Wraith's ears filled with a piercing Dasakan scream… . . . Raika bolted upright, their throat clenched tight in terror. with trembling hands, they felt the ground around them. Not grass. Tarpaulin. The smell of a fire was in their nostrils, but a simple wood fire and not the charnel bonfire of their nightmare. It hadn't been one the last time. But that time they had managed to fumble upon the still-heated blade. They had plunged the blade into the thing's open faceplate. And then done so again. And again. And again. And again… They had not stopped until the façade of their village had dissipated. Until the creature's armor was punched through in multiple places. Until the reek of burned Dasaka was replaced with the acrid, burning tang of the creature's tissue. Slowly rising to their feet, the still-trembling figure made their way, wordlessly, to Ahri and Yuna. They gestured noncommittaly in lieu of actual speech. They feared that if they opened their mind now, all that Ahri would hear was screaming. (OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @The UltimoScorp, )
  2. IC: Lainai. Sometimes, dinner bites back. The Mystix opened their jaws and let out a hollow noise like a ghostly woodwind instrument. The howl sounded something like the song of a whale in the pitch of a gukko's call. Lainai pulled their wing membranes close shut to protect them from harm, sealing them in an added layer of ice. Then, as the Muaka charged, they lept to meet it. Talons locked with claws as the two apex predators fought for survival: the Muaka for escape, Launai for desperately-needed nutrition. There was no malice in the dragon's attack. This was no show of force, or a trophy kill. This was a matter of food, and survival. The luxury of allowing such a worthy opponent to survive would have to wait for a less desperate occasion. The dragon's needlelike teeth, searing cold, bristled as the wyrm bit again and again at the leathery neck folds of the feline rahi's neck. If they could find purchase past the cat's thick fur and strategic armor plates, the battle would be over quickly, and they could spare the beast any more suffering. Even as their struggle continued, Lainai was consciously exhaling frost at every available junction. But their breath was already warming, and the Mystix felt a feverish heat growing in their muscles. They were starving, and their strength would not hold out forever. With one more cetacean howl, the dragon kicked up and dragged with her hindlegs raking the talons along the cat's exposed underbelly as they bit deep into the Muaka's windpipe. OOC: @BULiK @~Xemnas~ @Tarn
  3. IC: Lainai, dinnertime! The frost Mystix was starting to feel weariness leach into her bones. She was hungry, gnawingly so, and still no sign of any food on this blasted landscape. Until she heard the roar. Something that resonated in their bones, and set the teeth on edge. They smiled and, shaking hoar frost from their wings, launched herself from the mountainside towards the sound of a fresh meal. * * * The group of Matoran received an unexpected surprise as a lanky, spiky figure of ice and metal scraped to a halt to the left of the Muaka from them. Lainai regarded the group momentarily, but determined they seemed to have no interest or claim to the felid before them. To Kregero, Savrehn and Atamai, it would feel as if the last gasp of heat had leached from the air around them. Lainai's violet eyes glared hungrily at the Muaka. Their lip curled up, crackling through the shell of ice. When they spoke, their voice was melodious and hollow, like the howl of blizzard wind over a distant peak. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh, at last. Thank you for the meal, friend Muaka." She opened her faintly luminous maw, and breathed out a lethal stream of liquid gasses and freezing air towards the cat, meaning to freeze the beast where it stood. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @BULiK @Tarn hello there!
  4. IC: Lainai Sheet ice and powdery rime cracked and clattered to the floor as every last gasp of heat drained from the small chamber. Lainai's rest had been unexpectedly long. The injuries from their...dispute… had taken time to heal. Their violet-tinged nostrils flared. Fire on the winds. Not just the smog of the fire mountain. Something… else. Ice-cold liquid coursed through their veins as the Mystix placed a claw on the barrier to their frosty enclave. They allowed some of the heat to return to their ice then, levelling their shoulder, they easily smashed through into the rest of the nest. Needle-like scales and armored plates alike rustled as they moved. As moisture condenses from the air, their pale-blue and violet form took on a pale white sheen from the rime that crawled across them. By the time sunlight once more shone off of Alcaraung's form, they had once more achieved a coating of crystalline ice, adding to her imposing majesty. Cryonic fog wisping from her jaws, Lainai spread their wings and stretched for the first time in countless months. They were hungry, and solitude-weary. Turning their attention to their surroundings, the frost drake made her way amongst the slopes of Ihu, seeing what the day would bring. Perhaps a fresh Muaka cat, or some similar meal. If they were lucky. And if not? Well, Lainai would find something else, if need be. She was nothing if not resourceful... OOC: To any in Ihu who wish to befrend a dragon, Lainai the Rimed is open for interaction!
  5. IC: Karoru The Dasaka immediately rested a mailed hand on Zyla's shoulder to steady her. "Easy there, miss. I've got you. We'll get you fed and somewhere to rest a while, I promise." She looked down, smiling, the wings and frills of her iridescent Kakama glinting pale blue in the sunlight. "Name's Karoru. A Lady Daijuno sent me lookin' for you. She said you were friends." After a pause, she said "If that's true, I'll happily bring you to her. But if she's lying, lemme know. I'll get you something to eat and find you a berth. If she asks where I was, I'll say there was no sign of ya. I know getting in with nobby types can be a bit dangerous at times." another pause. "...an' I've been taken for a ride before. I may not always be the quickest, but I'll not let someone else suffer for it." OOC: @Void Emissary
  6. IC: Raika, Oki Refugee Camp Raika was momentarily irritated at Ahri's words. This was quickly followed by a massive wave of gut-twisting shame that they fought to tamp down. Of course they should help out. Normally their prerogative as a lone wanderer was to stay well away from any emergency where they could be cornered or identified. But they were here now, and visible. The people here had welcomed the group without question. A stark contrast to the cold, proud faces that had slammed the door on a starving figure years ago. These people weren't like that. The class borders were being crushed under the weight of onslaught. Perhaps a few of the more haughty would be humbled by it. Also, a small, selfish voice spoke in their head, there are probably healers here. Maybe one of them would know about feverleaf. That cemented things. Raika would help as much as they could, weary and battered as they felt. The warm food in their stomach felt like it had added to their exhaustion somehow. They had to fight to keep their eyes open. ::You're right,:: they said, struggling to ignore the wave of bone-deep weariness that was creeping through them as they unsteadily lifted themselves to their feet. ::We've been fed and taken in. It would be poor courtesy to not try and help where we could...:: They fumbled slightly, and collapsed back into a sitting position. The Dasaka's eyes blazed dangerously from behind the visor of their mask (still off-kilter, as in their exhaustion they had momentarily forgotten to re-adjust it), and their mouth was a hard line. What was visible of their speckled face below the base of their mask was now a deep, ruddy violet from a more extreme blush. Had hauling the fish really taken that much out of them? OOC: @The UltimoScorp @Keeper of Kraata
  7. IC: Raika, Oki Refugee Camp Raika looked ominously at the soup. It looked delicious. It smelled delicious. It would probably be delicious too. But they'd already eaten something today, right? Raika's stomach growled plaintively, and the petit rogue let out a likewise tiny sigh. Carefully they adjusted their mask, until just enough of their face was free to drink the broth. The mouth that was revealed was set in an indigo face, decorated with a spattering of pale violet freckles. Hesitantly, they lifted the bowl to their lips. It was a simple fish stew. But Raika, while many things, was no cook. This was the best food they had eaten in some time, surprisingly enough. ::It's nice:: they said, to nobody in particular. Then, wincing, they added ::I should have thanked then for making us the food.:: As Raika "talked", their lips never moved save to gulp down warm broth. But there were tiny tightenings and shifts, as though they were making expressions as they did communicate. As the tiny figure tucked into the stew, a ruddy blush crept across their face from the warmth of the broth. They looked… content. As though the food was having some impact on the recalcitrant Dasaka. They caught themselves as they were about to yawn, and visibly shook themselves. It would seem that, as Raika had spent most of their life invisible, they had never learned how to hide their tells as effectively as some others might have. OOC: @The UltimoScorp @Keeper of Kraata
  8. IC: Karoru The sellsword soulsword had worked her way through a good deal of the crowd. Her pace had been substantially slowed by those who required her assistance. As such, she nearly didn't realize the Dashi she had approached might be the fabled Zyla until she processed the Volitak upon their face. "Marm! I am looking for a Zyla. Might-" Her voice cut off when she saw the state the bedraggled Dashi was in. Dropping the well-practiced accent Karoru used when speaking to nobs, she lapsed into the more rustic accent of her youth. "Hey, Miss. You… are you okay? Do you need help? Can I get you anything?" Oh, the poor dear. She's all bones and armor. The little thing needs a good meal in her after a trip that long. OOC: @Void Emissary
  9. IC: Raika, Oki Refugee Camp Boyfriend? The joke sat oddly with Raika. Was that why they cared so much to make sure Ahri stayed safe? Their only previous experience had been childhood infatuation. But… Something else was eating at them. Raika realized that as the two walked they kept catching themselves gazing at the woman standing beside them. When they realized this their cheeks burned ruddy violet behind their mask. Their heartlight was flashing slightly erratically beneath their scarf. Ahh curse it, why had she had to make that joke and stir up these feelings! Raika hadn't slept in over two days, they didn't have the energy to cope with this. ::Not my boyfriend.:: they managed to eke out past the tumult in their mind. ::Just… a friend. And a new one at that.:: Pause, then with a slight edge of anxiety ::I… d-don't… Can… in your village, did….:: Cursing inwardly, they lapsed into silence. What were they doing? Had it really been that long since they had talked to someone that they so readily revealed their secrets like that? This wasn't an internal monologue, these words had consequences. Idiot. ::...nevermind. You're right, we can talk once we're back with Ahri.:: Raika strode back over to sit next to the amnesiac Soulsword, trying their hardest not to stare enraptured at the way the sunlight flowed across Yuna's azure armor. They almost missed that Ahri had woken up. ::Hey there,:: they said, concern evident in their voice. ::You okay big guy?:: OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @The UltimoScorp
  10. IC: Raika Raika felt an odd twist in their gut. She'd lost her village too. And strong as she was, Yuna was far more a Menti than scrawny Raika. ::I do, in fact. My village was very small, mostly agrarian with a warrior tradition. A newer offshoot of one of the larger clans, never managed to remember which. Only those with promise received Menti training. Or Firstborn.:: Like me. ::I… I lost my clan. Some time ago. There was a raid, and I… w-wasn't able to help.:: You ran, you ran, you RAN! COWARD! MURDERER! YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THERE! YOU SHOULD HAVE FOUGHT! There was a pause, then softly Raika said ::Are you okay? After everything. It's… hard doesn't cut it. Do… you need to talk?:: It was like silverwing butterflies were flitting about their stomach. They didn't like conversation at the best of times, but… after she had gone out of her way to help them both, the idea of leaving Yuna to stew on her own seemed unacceptable. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @The UltimoScorp
  11. IC: Raika ::Not me,:: the wiry Menti said as they set down the net of fish, trying to hide the fact that their whole body was shaking with the effort. ::Born talentless. Just a knack for getting in trouble.:: A slightly longer pause. Raika knew they shouldn't say what they were thinking. But something about the dasaka speaking to them had stirred an uncomfortable feeling inside of their stomach, soured as it was by their own poisons. They couldn't piece together what it was, but shame was wrapping around their innards like hot protocrystal. They were tearing themselves down in front of someone who had just met them, and seemed to not actively hate them. Well, it wasn't their fault if she was too stupid to see that Raika was trouble. But the barbed comment stuck on their metaphorical tongue. They couldn't even form the thought to send across to Yuna. Coward. It'll make it worse when she sees you for what you are. ::Sounds like you have a few talents though. Probably actually know what you're doing.:: Unlike me. ::Sorry, just… most Menti I've seen are too proud to get their hands dirty doing actual work. I guess… I'm just curious.:: Oh, like you're one to talk, sticklegs. ::Sorry if that's too personal. I don't get to talk to people much.:: Usually I just sell them out to the highest bidder. OOC: @Keeper of Kraata @The UltimoScorp
  12. IC: Nara, The Great Takea Everybody seemed to be getting anxious at the arrival of the Dasaka Rora. Nara, however, was slightly less star-struck (or terrified). Perhaps it was the several glasses of cider she'd had to ignore how big the tab was getting, but she looked to the intricately-armored figure and said: "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Yumiwa. I'll admit, despite hearing tales from a number of visitors from Kentoku, none seemed to do your beauty justice." Well thought Nara, I'm going to die now. But oh, what a story. OOC: @Caedast
  13. IC: Nara, The Great Takea Nara fought the instinct to crane her neck looking to the Rora. Yumiwa herself, here? Well of course she heard stories about the Dasaka leader from travelers, but she never seriously thought she'd be in the same room as someone so lofty. It was almost a bit intimidating. For a moment she almost had the giddy instinct to invite her to their table, just to see what would happen. It might scare off a couple clingers-on, and no matter what happened would make a great story if she survived. It was the 'if' that didn't sit well though. She turned to her old friend, grinning slightly despite herself. "Yumiwa in the armor, eh? This'll be a story to tell your grandkids, and no mistake. Let's tey not to attract too much attention, though. Highfalutin politico types like her probably wouldn't care too much for being bothered. I doubt she'd have us disappeared, but you hear stories after all." OOC: @Mel @Caedas , @BBBBalta @Tarn @Xemnas
  14. [TW for emotional self-harm] IC: Raika, Oki Refugee camp. The tiny Dasaka nearly collapsed under the weight of the partial net of fish, but they hid their feebleness as well as they could as they squared their shoulders and began following Yuna. Ah, yes, the palace. Raika tried to stay away from there. Too many trained willhammers, even more so than in a single clan's repertoire. Plus, you heard stories about Yumiwa sometimes, and Raika had no desire for someone to discover the identity of the elusive Wraith. But… guilt and selfish attachment twisted their innards like wound clockwork. Ahri needed help, to get his memories back. But what if he put two and two together? What if he decided the Wraith, being so small and feeble, would be better off executed to protect Mahstet's secrets? Also… they'd lose the only friend they had… While the slightly anguished expression on their face was mostly hidden by their Volitak, their eyes still had a sorrowful tilt to them through the mask's visor. Well, it made sense. Nobody'd stick around them if they had a choice, really. And Raika couldn't blame them. Why would they want to? They couldn't even figure out if they were a girl or… something else… Crosswired first son, more like they thought to themselves, taking some measure of dark satisfaction in the ache that stabbed through their gut at the bitter words. The pain in their chest. That's all you are. You can change your appearance, boy. But what will they do when they find out what you are? What will the Wraith be then? Nothing more than a pathetic game of make-believe. Just like everything else in your life. Fraud. Their response was almost mechanical, but with an unmistakably bitter edge: ::You're right. They could help him more than something like me ever could.:: OOC: @The UltimoScorp
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