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Erase myself and let go of what I've done...

0 · 244 views · located in Blade City

a character in “Blade City: The King and the Pentacle”, as played by Lovely VonSchultz


Name: Alexandria Nadia Lancester

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Description: Most inside the walls of Blade City have never seen the face of "Nyx". In the stories, the rumors, she is a deadly beauty: long black hair, hourglass figure clad in black, eyes filled with fire; or sometimes she's an intelligent, hard-as-stone woman who suffered a terrible wound on her face and was forever deformed. What if they were true? Sometimes Nyx wonders what it would be like to actually be one of the woman in those stories. Instead, she sees a face, certainly scarred, but not in any kind of dangerous delicate nature. It was no cut from a knife, or the wound from a bullet aimed to kill her. It left her skin bubbled, shining in the light, puckered and pink and red. The remnants of a murderous/suicidal attempt at her life. Hoping to erase the evidence. The right corner of her lips glued forever together, only able to speak out of the left side of her mouth. The left nostril caved in and the eye; milky white and sunken deep into the socket. All the hair gone there, the ear useless.

All this is hidden by a handmade leather mask that covers half of her head and ties near the back. Mostly the pieces are from broken down boots and coats left in the garbage. The rest of her body is marred for the same reasons. For revenge, for a bloody crime of passion that she couldn't lay eyes on any longer. Her arm is useless, most of the muscle burned away and crippled. It stays tied to her chest, out of the way. Her limp is prevalent, but she gets around quicker than most would believe with her injuries.

With all this ugliness; riding alongside the nightmare of her past, lies the untouched beauty of her present. Half a face, untouched by the flames of a self-inflicted hell. The good eye is surrounded by thick, but short, red lashes. They lick about the bright gray of her iris and threaten to set it afire. Her skin is smooth, her lips rounded and red like her hair. The blazing locks fly about wildly, trying to escape the clutches of the half mask she wears. Nyx cuts it herself so it remains this choppy, uneven length that flutters over her unmarred forehead and tickles the nape of her neck. Her body, though sickening with the marks, is thin and well maintained... At least, it used to be. Now, she retains her strength, but her dexterity and a little muscle mass have been lost. Hermitting herself in the safest building she can find for the night and only walking the streets when she desires food keeps her blood pumping and her muscles from growing stiff.

Personality: Nyx never used to go by that name. It was strictly her fighting name. Alexandria died with him and his whore. She watched them all burn; their bodies melting into their spilt blood...

She used to be ambitious. Her heart pumped the blood of a fighter to the end. Mixed martial arts and on the side she practiced with weapons. It was a hobby created all on her own. She had to fight off her father many times, so perhaps it was natural, but either way, it built a solid foundation for Alexandria...

Alexandria was a team player; a good sportsman; a loyal friend; a dedicated wife... She was what defined a "good person". Then she snapped. Alexandria died and only Nyx remained. Some skeletal version of the fighter she had been. A bloody, murderous, monster intent on leaving the world in a crimson colored tornado.

Now, approaching her is like approaching an untamed beast full of fear, paranoia, and confusion. You are not a friend and you're not an enemy. You are something she can't understand and so she stays away. Touch her and she'll stab you. Grab her and she'll fight to the bitter end. Her ticks are somewhat obvious. Twitching in the fingers of her good hand, uneasy glances every which way, jumping at tiny noises and finding solace in crowds. Crowds do not appreciate her, however. Walking about wearing a dirtied, worn cloak, a mask that hides half of who she is, and a name that sends unknown feelings into the hearts of all makes her less than fun to be around. That's okay, though. Nyx has no heart left to break.

History: Alexandria and Kelly. They were perfect for each other. Leaning on one another, supporting each other to reach their goals and dreams. Communication was never broken or misguided with them. The pair knew each other inside, out, backwards and forward. It was like a fairytale, a passionate romance, and sweet ever after.

For years they tried to conceive. For years they talked about adoption, and even fostered a few children. She miscarried and miscarried... her heart was falling apart and Kelly was there to pick up all her pieces, and his own.

Children, for those who want them, turn relationships around. Having them can make a lost relationship found again. Losing them can turn them to dust. Kelly found someone else somewhere in the process. She got pregnant.

Nyx killed them. She found the skinny bitch and beat her to death and then beat her filled belly. Nyx killed her with her bare hands.

Kelly lay in their bed. Alexandria drugged him, carted him over to the house where the body of his slut lay in her own pool of blood. She waited for him to wake up and laughed as she beat him to death as well. Their blood was everywhere. She could taste it in her mouth and her eyes were stained with the color.

The fire happened without her really knowing it. Something in her knew what she'd done was wrong. It was terrible and so very, very wrong. It had to be washed away from the earth. Nyx had to be washed away.

The rest of her life has run in a wash of blood, tears, and blank spaces. The hospital stay is like a dream, always being pumped full of drugs to heed the pain. The trial never happened. She plead guilty. Alexandria Lancester was dead and only Nyx survived. It was in jail where the rumors started. Most of the time she kept in solitary. Other women would try to pick fights with her because of the scars. Nyx always fought back.

Blade City wasn't really a choice she made herself. It just kind of happened and like always, Nyx adapted. She has to admit, however, she enjoys it a little more because less people bother her.

What I've Done - Linkin Park
My Eyes (On the Rise) - Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog

So begins...

Nyx's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nyx
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Sure, everyone knew Will Silvaro. Who in this nightmare didn't? Nyx found him to be a strange fellow. Too nice at first. Too chummy. Perhaps that was his method for getting by in this city? It was crazy enough to work. Nyx could appreciate the imagination of it. She couldn't partake in its insanity, however. See, she had her own kind of insanity. The dark kind. The kind that happened once, than left a wound on you so deep that it just sat there, never healing. It's festering smell would enter in some times and she would feel sick and dizzy from it. It was times like that, the Nyx never left whatever hiding hole she'd discovered. Being "nice" wasn't something Nyx was good at anymore.

So when Will spoke to her, she instinctively snarled at him. He probably didn't see it. Even though her face was only half masked, the rest was shadowed by the cowl over her head. The fight, the unnecessary bloodshed, the cook; everything had just went wrong for her. It seemed like, anymore, she just couldn't get some peace. The ex-fighter didn't say anything because she knew he would continue on. He asked her a question, she scoffed inwardly. Of course, he kept on talking, assuming she knew him. The body that lay there had one housed a sickening soul. A black thing with not much more compassion for life than the beast that killed him. It didn't matter though. Regardless of personality or moral make-up, Nyx wouldn't throw a life away so easily. Will ceased speaking and she just watched him, making sure she always had a way out if things got stupid. Sure, everyone knew Will Silvaro, but Nyx trusted no one, regardless of reputation.

"I didn't know him." She croaked out. "Everyone deserves respect in death." For a moment, she watched as her bare hands lifted from the bloody pulp she'd left on that woman's floor. Yes... everyone. His wound was evident. Nyx had no way of helping him with it. She found herself wishing she could help him.

"You should go find that doctor." Nyx stood up, with more ease than usual. Limping toward him, she examined the blood. "It's starting to congeal, but you need a proper cleaning and bandage." The wound made her smile for a half a second. A precious memory entered her mind filled with cheering crowds and heavy blows to the jaw. The useless hand tied to her chest twitched with the memory.