Kiyoshi Nikolai

[Kiyoshi Nikolai]

CHARACTER BASICS

Name:
Kiyoshi Nikolai 清 きよし
Nickname(s):
Nik ;; used by friends
Niki ;; used by the female persuasion
Neko ;; (as in the Japanese word for ‘cat‘) used by those he despises
Lai-lai//Lai ;; (as in ‘liar’) used by those that know of his ability and are uncomfortable with it
Age:
18 ;; April 11, 1989
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Bisexual ;; he can’t help that his own gender is also pretty
Race:
Demon
Year:
Eleventh ;; Third year koukou
Job:
Book Store Manager ;; [requesting]

CHARACTER APPEARANCE

Hair Color:
Mid-length, Jet black
Eye Color:
Hazel ;; they’re known to change from a gray-blue to light green
Height:
5’ 10’’ [179 cm]
Build:
Lean//Slim//Slight muscles
Unique Traits: [Otherwise Demonic]
Glowing Eyes ;; Only occur under fierce times of emotion
Obscure Tattoo Markings ;; Also only occurring under times of deep emotion, usually when using his post cog abilities and they spread from his chest to the end of his arms and eventually all over. [Example shown in Last Picture]
Clothing Preference:
Nik doesn’t think too much on the lines of clothing or style, he leaves that to the females and people of worth that have so little a mind that they force themselves to obsess over such unimportant things. I suppose you’d say he’d just wear whatever was comfortable, albeit clean, that he’d manage to get his hands on that morning. It just so happens that most of the time his hands will land on cloth of darker appearance, form-fitting, even sometimes his little sister’s clothes (No, she’s not -ginormous-, it’s just that she likes baggy clothes and they just so happen to fit him).
Description:
As with most Japanese-decent boys, you first notice that shocking contrast of black hair against such pale features of skin, Nik tending to keep his mop-of-a-mess called hair about chin-length and parted to the right side. It gives just enough room for his bangs to part midway and allow him the option to actually see without midnight tresses blocking his view. And yet his spectator‘s eye will get lost next on the reflecting surfaces of his spectacles, glasses he only needs to wear when reading but he won‘t be seen in public without them on (despite the fact that he does, in fact, own contacts). These glasses though, tend to hide his all-knowing eyes. Eyes the colors of gray skies and dying fields of grass, eyes that seem to be able to see right through you; they are what give away his menace as well as his intelligence. To satisfy the view though, Nik wouldn‘t be complete without his slim build and tall stature, his feminine features of high cheek bones and delicate hands or lastly, without his thin eyebrows and fragile appearance.
Yet, you will notice that despite this fragile look, it is the way that he carries himself that keeps others away: A sense of menace with each stride, a glare with every stare his direction, and an obvious eye roll to the females that roadblock him into walking around.
Character portrayed by:
Kyouya Ootori ;; Ouran High School Host Club

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CHARACTER DEPTH

Personality:
There isn’t anything at all too special about Nikolai in terms of his personality. He is who he is and it is quite easy to read him. He doesn’t try to hide much because he doesn’t share anything with anyone. He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone that isn’t his mother or his sister. But the way he thinks his personality is doesn’t really matter: it is how others view him that should count.
Sister: She sees him as over-protective, intelligent to the point of probably being completely too cynical and smart-alike (as well as not really needing to go to school), but a fun person to hang around and share her troubles with. He’s someone incomprehensibly strong and compassionate about others even if he is completely anti-social anyway. He cares and loves his family deeply, including their newer additions to the house: the pets.
Everyone Else: They see him as one of two things:
A person of mystery, someone unapproachable that you can only watch from afar and sigh at. Tall dark and handsome, quiet and intelligent, he’s rarely seen without a lab top or a book in hand. He speaks rarely if at all and if you annoy him (which is a severe possibility), he’s never going to speak to you again. He’s a challenge to unfold, to figure out and if you can at least do one good thing for him right: it’s to keep your ‘hands off.’
Or he is seen as a menace, someone seeking attention to the point of hurting others. He won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you if you leave a hand on him for too long and he enjoys showing off his intellect by pouring sarcastic criticism over you at all hours. He’s a show-off, thinking he’s better than everyone else so he has to go off into his own world and secretly grab the attention of the entire room.

Likes:
»Quiet ;; Being alone
»Analyzing
»Books//Computers
»Anime
»Animals
»Movies
Dislikes:
»Stupidity
»Crowds
»Pink
»Touching
»Authority Figures
Strengths:
»”Poker face”
»Tough guy//”Cool”
»Popular with the females
»Intelligence
Weaknesses:
»Claustrophobic
»“Difficult”
»Insomnia
»Lack of caring
»Sister complex
Quirks:
»Cracking knuckles
»Fiddling with his glasses
»Biting his lip
»Short attention span ;; Easily bored
»Remembering names and/or directions
Hobbies:
»Writing
»Drawing
»Reading//Fantasy novels
»Ignoring you
»-Not- sleeping
Fears:
»His abilities
»(worries over) His little sister
»Memories

Abilities:
Post cognition ;; The ability to see the past of a specific place or room (despite how old or new the event is), usually a deep emotion has to have been left behind in the event he is seeing for the vision to become all the more real.
When he was a child, he was able to hone the power without knowing it, seeing things from places of everyday life that a child had no business seeing. He would tell those adults around him, in charge of him, about what he was seeing, in hopes that they could do something about it:

Can’t you help that poor woman? Right there, you see that!? She’s bleeding! That man is evil, you need to stop him before he hurts someone else! I’m not doing this for attention, just listen to me! Please, stop the little kid, he’s going to really hurt himself! Why would I be lying?! It‘s right there!

But it was all in vain because they couldn’t see what he saw and really, for the people in his visions, it was already too late for them. He would only be called a liar for so long before everyone would just not listen to him at all. And the visions? He could ignore them, but the sights he’d seen would change his life.

FAMILY CORNER

Relatives:
»Mother ;; Human//Japanese//Kyoshi Hime
»Father ;; Demon//English//Vander Sharde//Missing
»Brother ;; Demon//Kiyoshi Vander//Deceased
»Sister ;; Demon//Kyoshi Ayame
Pets:
»Yo-yo ;; 2 year old//Jack Russell Terrier//Rare breed of long hair//Male
»Heero ;; 16 months//Dachshund//Black with tan paws//Male
»Tuff ;; 4 year old//Black Persian Cat//Female

Background

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----See second post-----
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ROLEPLAY INFORMATION

Alias:
Fenrir
Gender:
Male
Roleplay Experience:
Eight//Advanced//Literate
Contacts:
Private//Save for what I am already showing

Roleplay Example: [This is called me being lazy//I just didn‘t feel like typing up something new//This is a post from another rp site in which I play Fen: the classic Werewolf, albeit an obnoxiously hyper one.]


The Unknown Lands were not much for homely population as they were for hiding, and maybe this is what had first attracted him to such a place. He was still quite obviously hunting his friend down and why the Fallen could certainly have hidden himself away, he seemed to be preferring to settle about markets, taverns, with people who wouldn’t question his race although those undeniably darkening wings spoke it for him.
The Werewolf had been tracking his scent for some time now and had run amuck of such lovely luck right around the time he reached Himonas, a nicely populated little city drowning slowly in poverty and disuse. Hoping to be back on the trail in no time, he stayed at the residence of a hotel in the small stretch of city.

The people there didn’t seem too fond of strangers however and because of a very loose lip on his part, he had only stayed there a fortnight before insight had him leaving the place with cold feet. Hiding nearby, it had been fairly easy to spy on the group of footpads sent with orders to capture their new bounty. It definitely wasn’t the first time he had been sent after with such gold wanted for his head, but it made for an annoying irritation that had him believing he’d have fairer luck tracking down Tyr somewhere else.
The Little Long Hotel in Mikoa village had his attention for another fortnight, despite the wandering rats that crossed its floors, it was nice enough for the purposes of a dry night of sleep safe from outdoors and the people searching for him there. He remained in this village the next morning, seeking news of if his bounty was being pursued even here, until he decided it time to pause in his Fallen hunting and actually settle down until the full moon for this month was behind him.

He need not try to worry over both things at once, you see.
He’d be on his way soon after though.

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Fenrir started for a moment, widening a set of perfectly golden eyes, crouching down even lower now in his hiding place behind a set of very thorny bushes. The lithe Werewolf shook his head, sending his set of honey and chocolate locks into a brief halo about him, blinking the sleepiness away.
Why am I that tired? I can’t believe I dozed off in the middle of a hunt!
Luckily, his prey had not escaped in his small moment of weakness and he was still looking forward to a delicious meal of roasted meat.

He supposed he could blame his exhaustion on the night before. The latest full moon had not found him particularly well. Having purposely holed himself up in an abandoned mining district in the chains of silver and yet somehow awakening in a vast field streaked in someone else’s blood, had not been one of his happier memories.
Although, it wasn’t particularly new to him either, he had to agree.

He sat a hand softly on the ground before him, supporting his weight in a steadier balance, wary not to make any noise and yet ready to pounce as soon as the graceful young stag before him moved an inch or so closer. The handsome animal munched on some leaves a few meters away, the fall season having already reached up to this forest at least a month or so earlier than usual. It was nervous, he could tell. The beast’s dark grey fur rippled contentedly about a steady frame, its antlered head lifting up to smell the wind every few minutes, black ears twitching in quick fidgety movements.
It seemed to know that its powerful hooves and tiny, newly-developed antlers wouldn’t save it from a bigger, smarter predator. And it had sensed him for some time now, he was sure. The beast had led the lycan into a dance of movements that spanned half a mile of the forest already, never coming too close to where it sensed its doom approaching yet always circling back. But its luck could only last for so long.

Silently, Fen waited for the small stag to come closer, evaluating the fat flesh of its back, mentally running over the list of possible herbs and spices that would fit the salty strong meat well. The previous week’s goods he had managed to lift from that busy marketplace still ran with a supply of said goodies despite his use of the stuff not being particularly sparingly. His mouth watering in expectation, he suppressed a frustrated sigh when the critter turned away, skirting him, moving to snatch a leaf in a farther bush.

Maybe I should change strategies, the Werewolf grinned, thinking about showing himself finally and beginning a much more drawn out run when the animal panicked. He usually was always that subtle nearer to the end. True, he wouldn’t have as much fun as he had so far with lurking his prey into his trap, going by nothing more than his wolf instincts and he was sure he would tire out quicker than the stag when running, due to the effects of the moon still fazing him.

The Werewolf thought of hunting as more than a daily necessity. There was a sacred ritual to it, one that demanded patience and practice, and offered delightful proximity to the gods’ special works and the forces of nature. But I've got to eat sometime...

He smelled the new intruder a millisecond before his prey must have, eyes going wide, the beast reared in his field of vision with obvious discomfort. Soon following this came the small snapping of twigs underfoot with a resounding thump, his intruder wasn’t in the least bit trying to quiet themselves. Perhaps the being didn’t know of their presence however.
Fenrir grunted. Where did that come from? Why didn’t I hear them approach until now?

No time to bother pausing to guess answers, if he still wished to catch his dinner, he sprang into action. The Werewolf jumped over the bushes that had hid his frame, flexing vigorous muscles, arching his slender figure through the air as he made himself come into the clearing ahead of him seconds before his prey bolted. He instantly drew within the power he cursed and blessed, sticking his now elongated talons into the tender fur and flesh of the unprotected neck, drawing thick gushes of crimson liquid with one smooth slash. His change didn’t go any farther than that however, and he had ducked into a crouch toward the ground before making the killing blow, just in case he needed to avoid being pummeled with those antlers had he missed.
The end came far too quickly to the lycan’s taste – it felt somewhat anticlimactic. You made your best, little one, Fenrir complimented. But I’m hungry, he mentally whined, as if he needed an excuse to kill the lovely creature.

He straightened, standing up clearly as his catch’s body crumpled to the ground in front of him with the sound of a soft sigh, a wide grin set across his features even as a warning was still making his muscles tense. The Werewolf made no further move to grasp hold of his prize, standing icily still. His dinner had almost slipped away, scared by that sudden noisy intervention. Fen didn’t at all appreciate having his hunting ritual disturbed; a civil being wouldn’t have dared to interfere in such a precious moment. The Werewolf turned curiously to glance over where the object of noise must have come from, amber eyes scanning the forest floor.

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[Kiyoshi Nikolai]

-----------------Has been given permission by both of my admins!!

THE NIGHTMARE

Background:
Born April 11, 1989 in Kyoto, Japan at a local hospital downtown, Kiyoshi Nikolai had the childhood most people often dreamed of: family, money, and love. The entire Kyoshi line was well taken care for, what with his mother being a licensed surgeon and his father being a famous lawyer whom owned small-time corporations in several different countries. Nik had an older brother by two years who looked out for his every need and soon came to have a younger sister, born around the time he hit 14 months old. He was spoiled rotten, always within another’s company (be it maid, brother, or teacher) and allowed practically anything he set his eyes on.

It didn’t last long however, and everything seemed to steadily change for him following his first year of Kindergarten at the lovely age of three. Nik had rarely ever left the safety of his house before then, occasionally enjoying a romp in the backyard or taking a half hour trip with his mother to the store, but hardly outside long enough to see the ‘nightmares.’ He loved reading, even then, so he’d much rather hide in a corner and bury his face in coloring books and bedtime stories.
It began with blurry images, shadowy forms that left a waking feeling of wrong in their path. And when he‘d see them he‘d squeal, quickly trying to inform an elder of them. The adults couldn’t see them though, they always disappeared when Nik brought the safety of an elder person over and the teacher’s advice was always the same: They’re just your fears, sweetie. All you have to do is face them -Tell them you’re not afraid to face the nightmare. And they’ll go away. But they wouldn‘t. They only got worse.
Then the forms started to take shape, becoming people with faces and names, becoming identifiable to either gender, full of color and life and feeling. He‘d see them at the park, suspended in shadow as if the nightmare really had taken form at night. Nik would see them on the roof, teetering so close to the edge of that wall that they already looked as if they were flying. And he‘d see them at school, in that little alleyway behind the swing set, a mix of blurring movement and forces of nature wholly alive and intent on their own purposes. He saw them. And he could feel them. Sometimes they were full of rage, a burning desire of menace set on revenge and encountering their enemy face-on. Sometimes they were full of a numbing fear, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even cry as they lay there in a mess of limbs awaiting for the final stroke to come down. And the things they would do.
He couldn’t tell them from reality at such a young age, especially when he began to be able to hear what it was they were shouting, screaming, crying, pleading, promising. He always ended up calling for help, for an adult, a teacher, a doctor, his mother, anyone. His father in particular, seemed to go into a rage every time Nik mentioned them. But it was a little known fact that even at so young an age, when you saw someone hurt, saw someone bleeding, someone about to do something wrong, you called for help. You did -something.- But they could never see the ‘nightmares,‘ no one could. And it wasn‘t long before he became known as a famous ‘Lia-r,’ the one always striving for attention. And when Nikolai became angry that they would not heed his words, he‘d describe to them vividly what he saw, purposely freaking them out to the point where he was quickly kicked out of Kindergarten for disturbing other students.

Those visions, those ‘nightmares‘ as he called them, changed him. As well they should, for it was devastating enough for something terrible to happen to you, but for someone to watch as these things took place, over and over again, to feel what the victim felt, to feel what his captor felt and for that someone to be no more than four to five years old: it was a forever nightmare.
Nik became home schooled there after, he stayed inside at all hours, he rarely talked and when he did it was with malice or sarcasm and he ate his meals alone. His only saving grace was his little sister, the one whom believed him, the one who would crawl into bed beside him when he told her he could see them through the window, the one who would sing him into calm, and the only one whom could get him to laugh.
He didn‘t see the visions too much there after, they faded into those bubbly shadows until he ignored them altogether. Life went on.

Normalcy almost seemed to capture Nikolai into relief until his brother‘s twelfth birthday. And the younger Vander up until then had been the perfect scene of innocence and study, becoming one of those ‘why can‘t you be just like him‘ figures he despised hearing his mother talk about. He‘d gone to school, aced his tests, got the most advanced classes, hung out with friends until curfew, talked politely in introducing himself to company and so on. But after that birthday, he‘d never have to hear ‘be just like your brother‘ again. His brother died.
Nik had been in his study reading a book aloud to little Aya when he‘d first heard the rushing movement downstairs and then the shouting came, followed by the maid‘s squeal and a lot of door slams, even a quick squeal of car tires coming from the garage. His mother had entered the room, shaky and pale, eyes wide with a horror she wasn‘t ever going to voice and she‘d dashed across the room, capturing his little sister in an embrace that hid her silent sobs. She didn‘t tell them what happened and she didn‘t explain her weird actions but the next day they held a hasty funeral for young Vander.

Fighting ensued, between his mother and father, to the point where little Aya and he would shut his door tight and sing as loud as they could just to get rid of the shouts. The housekeepers would shake their heads and scurry off to go clean something that was already spotless of dirt. His private tutor would excuse himself early whenever faced with the arguments. And soon his father would stay late at the office unto days, while his mother would further take the night shift at the hospital and eating was never lonely again because he‘d eat with his sister right at the dining room table. Their house was empty, quiet, deadening. And younger Vander’s room was kept locked and never touched, long after the child was buried and put to rest in the ground.
The shouts were always in his ears though, even when no one was home. Because the ‘nightmares’ were back and inside his own home. There was no escaping them, no ‘facing’ them and definitely no ignoring them. So Nik would watch his parents scream and curse and threaten one another to the point of tears and close calls of impending violence all day and night long. He’d rarely sleep, watching over his sister just in case those ‘nightmares’ decided to place their anger elsewhere.
He became the big brother then, no longer the middle-child whom comforted as much as he was comforted. No, he did all of the comforting now. Nik would go with his sister wherever she desired, whether outside on the swing set or in their mother’s room where they’d longingly pout over the empty sheets and just stare stupidly at the joyful photos hanging about the room.

It was about a year after his brother‘s death that their father decided never to come home again, a suitcase or two away, their mother screaming obscenities before collapsing in a sobbing heap upon the floor and a kiss goodbye to Ayame with a final look back at Nikolai and…..that was it. They‘ve still never seen him again.
It was in those first few nights that Nikolai began to question just what the hell was going on, because their mother would come into Aya‘s (Nik stood guard beside her) room late at night and just watch over her with silent tears. Sometimes she‘d even roll right onto bed beside her and cradle the child as if she was the last hope on Earth for her sanity. His mother was scared, scared for his little sister Ayame. And he wanted to know why.

So he did what he knew he had to do the next day their mother left for work and while his little sister was still fast asleep after a story he‘d read to her: he snatched the housekeeper’s key to his brother‘s room (they had to keep cleaning it) and he opened the door to the nightmare.
The visions of the past that he watched at first play out was ones of his brother‘s days of happiness, the day of Nik‘s apparent birth, the first time Vander had showed him around his room, their sister‘s birth and vice versa. But the dark emotions swamping that neat little room overpowered any other source of extreme emotion and he became a spectator to watching his brother‘s death in seconds after the door banged closed.
Through the visions that he‘d watched of his parent‘s arguments, he‘d understood a bit of what they were entailing, a bit of what must have happened, of what his father had kept secret from them for years.
He was a Demon.
And although he could imagine his mother might have forgiven that hidden truth, might have fallen even more in love with him to know of this unique genealogy, all of that future must have changed by the way their mother had found out about his race.

His brother had seemingly grew wings over the course of the night and the act had not been sleep-worthy. It had been painful and his back had bled heavily as the appendages formed right out of his spine. The boy had been terrified and confused. He‘d held his hand over his mouth so as not to scream loudly, thinking he must be some kind of freak and he had further hurt himself by using his father‘s razor from the bathroom down the hall to try and ‘clip‘ the wings as if they never existed. The result: He‘d initially bled to death in his own bed.
The Demonic gene was rarely passed down between a union of human and demon, usually the resulting child came to be known as a regular old mortal. But his brother had inherited everything like their father: a blond flash of hair, brilliant blue eyes, a pension for always being on the move, restless, and he was as tall and big as ever, always smiling, exceedingly going over the limits.
Just like his little sister was.

That night as Nik watched over the golden Angel that was his sister, he understood what scared his mother. Though, he also knew that her fear should have extended out toward him. Although he was as dark a beauty as his mother, tall, lean and agile, fragility in its strength: he knew what the ‘nightmares‘ were now. He knew what he was.
And yet, as he grew older, these ‘nightmares‘ ended up being the least of his problems. As his sister came past the fatal age that had been his brother‘s and was still relatively normal, his mother returned to her old routine: working, cooking, eating, sleeping, quietly reaching out. And although he never came to terms with the ‘nightmares‘ or spoke of them to anyone (allowing his mother to live in the illusion that they were all normal), his mother forced him back into society, back into school and the ‘nightmares‘ became a part of his own daily routine. Until one of the nightmares became reality.
His little sister went missing.

At the youthful age of sixteen, Kiyoshi Ayame was the picture of a golden goddess, with velvety-thick curls of blond locks and the deepest set of rainy skies for eyes, with the characteristic paleness of their entire family and the serene little sundresses she made sure to wear across her tall form. She even somehow seemed to keep her innocence even then, a burst of chatter and questions always, restless and always in the service of others.
It had not come as much of a surprise to him when he‘d waited after school for her for hours and then finally pushed his ‘nightmares‘ into good use to watch the past event unfold that would forever be ‘his‘ nightmare. Nik found himself seething as some stranger snatched her up from the sidewalk (more than likely waiting for him), pushed her effortlessly into the back seat of a family mini-van and sped off down the road. He followed the memory all across town with the full intent of an avenger, it was the first time he was ever able to keep the vision from fading so soon afterward. And he caught up to the culprit, but from past experiences of no one believing his visions, he continued the pursuit alone and did not call for help.
Nik tried desperately to free his sister while the kidnapper refueled at some gas station: but he was caught. So he used the smarts the good god gave him, smarts he‘d learned from his personal time of reading everything within sight, smarts that came from being an observer:
And he bargained.

To this day, no one knows exactly what transpired next but Nikolai and he has never shared to anyone this nightmare of his either. His mother could tell of a few hours of panic when neither child came home. And then she’d tell of Ayame entering the house like any other evening, reassuring her with her characteristic child-like way that nothing was wrong. Because that‘s what her brother had told her. He‘d told her his friend had been looking for him and wanted her help finding him (hence the kidnapping) and that he‘d be staying over with his friend for a few nights and not to worry. She’d recall the girl’s confusion though, the question of when did her brother ever get a new friend. His mother would tell of the relief that flowed through her all the way to her soul and then later she‘d tell of the horror and panic that drove her for over a year following as the ransom note came into being upon her very porch steps the following morning.
He was gone for over a year (hence why he‘s a full year under in school to where he should be). And they never found the kidnapper as well as they had never found him. He‘d just pushed his way through the front door one evening: broken and half-starved.

He refused treatment. Purposely pissed off any shrink he was sent to until they gave up on him. And he despised anyone touching him even if it was just a tap on the shoulder.
But he told his mother of the ‘nightmares‘ finally and she understood them for what they meant. He was a Demon. And following his sister‘s recent birthday, her transformation of wings albeit not upon her back but where her ears should be: she was one too.

Both recently sent over their records to be transferred to Hidamari High and Nikolai passed the Entrance Exam with flying colors.

[Fujiwara "Zou" Elle]

{ Accepted! }

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