Age: Actual: 17 Appears: Anywhere between 16-19, depending on the person's ability to guess her age
Powers:Magic:[/u] Ink is more proficient with Magic than anything, but is still a decent fighter when it comes to using weapons. These are her Magic skills/chants/spells learned thus far:
"Rédemption"Redemption: When in battle, this spell is cast over those of her party (on her side) and guarantees each individual will stay alive so long as Ink is up and kicking. Once she goes down- whether due to exceeding the time limit or she's attacked- the party members depend on their own health again. Edit: This does not give the party members extra health. It is similar to "Once More", in which there is one HP left after each hit. The stronger the enemies are than Ink, the less time this protection will last.
"Pluenfer"Rained Hell/Rain of Hell: Cast with her hands held above her head, this spell calls upon a rain of fire. Ideally, this will clear the space around her in the shape of a circle. Has no affect on Fire-type creatures.
"Soleil"Sun: Calls a beam of light to shoot out of her palms and into the eyes of her enemies. Using both hands intensifies the light and mobility, but takes twice as much MP as with one hand.
"Cielumière"Heaven's Light: Almost like a shield, a bright light wraps around her allies and absorbs the next attack on each individual. This only lasts up until the next time they are attacked before dimming, then completely vanishing.
"Revenant"Ghost: Can only be cast on herself. Ink becomes ghost-like, as in matter passes right through her such as a sword, axe, someone's fists, etc. Only works so long as something is being thrown at her, which means she can't use this spell to walk through walls or anything. Edit:Because I'm lazy and Zeph had a really good idea there The more powerful the enemy, the less of a "ghost" she'll become. Or, the less likely it is that whatever they're shanking her with will actually pass through.
"Miroira"Mirror/Reflect Me/Reflection: Ink casts this on herself; this spell fools her enemies into "seeing" Ink attacking/lunging to the right, when she's really coming from the left. Prevails until she is finally hit, thus "shattering" the illusion.
Other than these, however, Ink is familiar with the same Magic used in the KH universe. Edit: She can cast the basic elements but is currently working on reaching each spell's next level. How long this will take? No one really knows.
Cura (Rather than Cure, because she is more inclined to cast healing spells than any other. Can be changed)
Weapon: While her Magic can be considered as weapons, Ink is also able to fight without the spells and enchantments. What she lacks in strength she makes up for in speed and agility, able to slip out of harm's way until she is finally caught/struck. Recently, she has taken up (actually) practicing with her longsword.
Ink has light brown hair that tumbles down to her mid back in soft curls. Unfortunately, the only time she can get her hair to behave is when she pulls in up in a French twist, or she stays at home all by her lonesome. Other than that, her hair often looks a bit wind-blown, as if she'd been standing up on the Bailey for a while. Or she's been running her hands through it nervously, which also happens.
Her eyes are brown as well, not the lovely dark, chocolate brown- more like caramel. She doesn't wear make-up, mainly because she's come to accept that no one would really notice even if she did. She'd rather save what make-up she has for special occasions, which means it's shoved in a box high up in her closet. As for her body type, because Ink doesn't do too much hard labor, she doesn't have the muscles and such she probably could.
Her wardrobe varies from day to day, and event to event. She loathes wearing dresses- she didn't have any issue whatsoever with them while in Notre Dame, but once she came to Radiant Garden she decided she loved trousers more than skirts. She keeps to darker colours, simply because bright, flashy materials are easy to see and only attract attention. But she tries her damnedest not to wear an entirely black outfit, because there has to be some variety in there somewhere. She wears clothing that isn't skin-tight, but clings just enough to show off her figure. Baggy clothes are more for moping around the house in, where no one can see you.
The only piercings she has are her ears, which she's had for as long as she can remember. Other than that, she doesn't have any tattoos, and has not made a habit of wearing very much jewelery.
"Come one, come all! Close the churches and the schools; it's the day for breaking rules! Come and join the feast of fools!"
Since she was a young child, Ink was always getting into trouble. She tip-toed through the large crowds in the city square, tugging on skirts and stepping on the backs of people's shoes. She trailed behind people of "high" rank, as in those who thought they were higher than everyone else, imitating the way they walked and the motions they made with their hands when they spoke. Accents were also her specialty, as well as ventriloquism. Even now, Ink is scarily observant. Unfortunately, due to her slight obsession of people-watching, she's been known to miss the bigger picture, such as what else is going on around her. Years ago, she realized the other children as well as some of the adults, were entertained by her uncanny ability to mimic others, and she practiced her skills with the hope of making her fellow mischief makers laugh.
Yet, with all her attention focused on imitating others, Ink soon believed she'd lost sight of her own personality, instead blending together the traits and behaviors of others into one. This still affects her today, because when she's in a room filled with strangers, she tends to pick up on habits from someone else in the room and pretend they're her own. When she's not in the mood for imitating, she seems distant and, on occasion, cold.
Everyone has things they enjoy doing, as well as things they absolutely despise. When she's in a good mood, Ink likes to laugh and have others laughing too. She smiles at the simple things, such as sunsets or sunrises, children playing outside, the smell of the Earth after a storm. But things like someone struggling to carry a heavy load because no one will help them, or people generally being rude to each other to boost their own confidence doesn't make her happy at all. She makes it a point to roll her eyes at people who complain far too much with no reason at all; Ink has the odd habit of bottling everything up inside until she explodes simply because she doesn't want to come off as being too ungrateful.
When she isn't sleeping or enjoying the fresh air, Ink is out looking for a job of some sort. She originally had no issues doing volunteer work- as in helping others with little things in their shops or babysitting the younger children while their parents were out- but now she's realizing that it's high time for her to earn her own munny and support herself. As of right now, she's tempted to see if there's an open space on the RG Committee, but seeing as she hasn't spoken to any of the current members, she isn't really doing much. She would try talking to Leon, but she always chickens out at the last possible second has convinced herself that he is far too busy to deal with a seventeen year old.
Ink likes to believe she isn't easily frightened, which is partially true. However, just like every other human, certain events or thoughts scare the hell out of her. She's learned to not share such fears with others, although it's not completely unreasonable to assume that one of these days, someone will notice. First of all, Ink is afraid of Heartless. Honestly, Ink doesn't mind playful matches between friends and peers, but when it comes down to it, she's afraid of being attacked and not being able to protect herself or those around her. Sure, everyone loses sometime, but that doesn't mean she wants to accept it. This fear isn't about a lack of power as in victory. Her other fears include being forgotten, drowning (although she enjoys swimming), hurting someone else due to her carelessness, and small, confined places that she can't get out of.
Her weaknesses include her impulsive and mischievous nature, stubbornness, bad habit of holding grudges although she'll say she's forgiven the person, sarcastic comments, and knack for playing "Devil's Advocate." While some may associate a mischievous nature with a fun, lively individual, Ink is a bit different. She would be a horrible liar if she said she only pulls pranks to entertain people. It's not for the reputation (which she doesn't really even have, as far as she's aware). It's more for the hell of it. When an idea for some new practical joke pops up in her head, she's almost immediately trying to connect the prank with a certain person, regardless of their feelings in the matter.
Opposite her weaknesses are her strengths. These include her keen observation, her ability to stay calm during most emergencies, courage in regards for sticking up for others, open-mindedness, proficiency with healing whether magically or not, and finally her love of knowledge. In Ink's opinion, everyday is another opportunity to learn something new. A simple lesson or more complicated subject, it doesn't matter. However, she'll be damned before she admits this, because she knows how ridiculous it sounds. But still, her love of knowledge is a main reason why she enjoys puzzles of all kinds, be it a maze or a riddle, or any other sort of logic problem. They're also fun.
Original World: Notre Dame Current World: Radiant Garden
"Maybe you've heard of a terrible place, where the scoundrels of Paris collect in a lair? Maybe you've heard of that mythical place called the Court of Miracles? Hello, you're there! Where the lame can walk, and the blind can see- but the dead don't talk, so you won't be around to reveal what you've found!"
Family. It has become a stereotype to many, simply meaning a mother and a father (preferably happily married), and at least one child. It has become an excuse, for the richer the family means the better, the more intelligent.
But down here, down below the city of Paris, family meant more. Family meant protection. Acceptance. Wisdom. Love.
They were the poor and the hungry, the weak and the sinned. They came together, the rejected citizens from the city above, and built a world of their own underground, where the leers and the hate and the judgments could never reach them. People of all shapes, sizes, colors, and genders were welcome. Each individual had his or her own voice, of course, and their own, individual thoughts. The true miracle in that Court of Miracles was, despite all odds, the mismatched group could with their individual voices merge as one to be louder than all of Paris. They were poor because munny didn't equal happiness in their eyes. They were hungry, but for the wonders of the world and its secrets. Their weakness was of their love of life, and their sin was enjoying it.
Little Alix Inkeri Volaire was born into this large, unconventional family and welcomed with open arms and hearts. She was loved very dearly by her parents, or so she's been told. Unfortunately, both were killed in yet another attack on the gypsies, as well as two other members of the family. But sometimes, when she's alone, she imagines what it was like to be held by her parents.
Be it a blessing or a curse, the death of her parents was the most dreadful event that happened in Ink's life, and even then her family wouldn't let her wallow in thoughts of what could have been. They didn't treat her any different than the other children, some of which had also lost their parents at an early age, some even worse than her. She played and laughed and was punished alongside her best friend, a dark haired boy named Donat. They were constantly running about the place, trying their hand at anything and everything in their reach. From a young age, Ink and Donat listened excitedly to stories of magic and mystery, hardly able to wait until they were old enough to practice it themselves.
It was surprising yet expected when both children found their magic at nearly the same time. Ink was ten years old, and Donat was eight- but he was skilled in many things even before then, so she wasn't as jealous as she could've been. Donat was better with offensive magic while she excelled in defensive. He would "fight" and she would heal him and any other child who, most likely by tripping over their own feet, was injured. Granted, she was still too young to even think of casting Cure, but it still made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside when she helped seal a small cut or cleared a tiny bruise that she decided to stick to healing. After all, why would she need to practice really fighting when the adults had that covered? Or when Donat was there?
Then, only when it was too late, she realized why.
When Ink rolled out of bed that morning, no one told her she'd lose the most important things in her life before the day was over. It was a rather normal day as far as she and Donat were concerned, as far as anyone was. The sun was shining and the bells of Notre Dame rang as loudly as usual. They spent the day in the city above, drinking in the sunlight as they laughed and smiled at the simple things. When the sun began to sink into the horizon, they knew it was time to go back home. Ink, as always, ate supper with Donat and the others. When it grew late and they both began to yawn, they said their goodnights.
She was well on her way to falling asleep when a hand, suddenly on her shoulder, shook her awake. Opening her eyes, Ink saw Donat's fearful expression. He shook his head and pulled her up, out of her bed, slowly and quietly enough that they didn't wake the other children. She saw other adults doing the same, occasionally waking someone else and pulling them along. Soon, they emerged from their underground city into the one above, standing side by side with the others. Why? What were they doing out here? Up here?
Little black demons with yellow, glowing eyes.
Paris was under attack.
From that point on, Ink can hardly remember how she managed to find the courage to put one foot in front of the other after being told they were to try to fight the monsters off with their magic.
She wasn't a fighter, she was a healer.
And in the end, even that hardly mattered.
Nothing they did could destroy the monsters, because with each move they made the shadows seemed to multiply. As each man and woman went down, their hearts floated up into the night sky. It wasn't fair. They couldn't win like this.
The battle took them from their hiding place to the city square, where soldiers were having as much luck as the gypsies with keeping the shadows at bay.
Sometime later, much later, Donat dragged Ink into Notre Dame herself, and they fell to their knees. They had both spent too much energy outside, using their magic when it didn't even do a damn thing. The front doors to the cathedral flew open, and before she could blink, she found herself racing up the stairs to the bell tower as Donat pulled her by her hand. Nothing chased them, but something found them. Or someone, she couldn't tell. Instead of crashing into a bell, she curled up beneath one of the larger ones and let the darkness consume her.
Ink didn't wake up to find it was all a nightmare, as she hoped she would. She didn't wake up next to Donat.
Hell, she wasn't even in the cathedral anymore.
She found herself in Traverse Town.
Ink spent two and a half weeks, searching for Donat or any of the other gypsies. Either they were in a different world than she was, or they. . .
Well, she didn't want to think about that.
Gathering up her courage, she told herself her family wouldn't want to see her rot away, alone and afraid of this new world. But she couldn't stay in Traverse Town, because it was far too crowded with other lost souls, also looking for their loved ones. Sooner or later she followed a group of people to another world, this one called Hollow Bastion.
It was incredible, really, how everyone in that world managed to pull their own weight and help whenever needed. Sure, there were some people who didn't like each other, but overall it reminded her of her family back in her own world. They were even aboveground! Granted, she wonders if it's because no one knows where she came from and why most Parisians looked down upon her family.
There was a main group she found herself looking up to as time went on: Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee. She was usually horrible with names, more likely to remember faces than anything, but she remembered one Committee member in general; Leon Leonheart. A bit repetitive if you asked her, but to each his own. Out of respect, she'd taken to calling everyone by their surnames, something her family taught her to do when she was around strangers. Names have power.
In the end, she managed to settle down quite comfortably in the new world, although she missed her family. With the newest threats from the Darkside, she's even volunteering herself as a sort of promise to help those in danger or in need just like she was helped when she was lost.
Role Playing Sample:
It was raining today, and the clouds were dark and looming over the horizon. The world flashed brightly for a heartbeat, the bolt of light followed by a soft rumble of thunder. Ink knew she should probably go inside where it was warm and dry, but she didn't move. Instead, she smiled. The rain was warm- but what else could one expect from a summer storm?- and she didn't mind that her clothes were soaked through.
Outside, she could think.
Hollow Bastion had finally been changed to a more welcoming name, Radiant Garden. And gardens couldn't flourish without a bit of rain here and there, right? She grinned, closing her eyes at the thought of what the RGC would be doing now, with the storm. She wasn't a part of the Committee- not yet, she reminded herself- but that depended on actually going up and speaking with one of the current members.
That made her inwardly flinch. Once again, lightning flashed, bright enough to be seen through her eyelids. It was an odd sight, which made her open her eyes. The storm wasn't dangerous. It was simply intimidating. She wasn't worried about being struck by lightning simply because she had faith in the odds that she, well, wouldn't. There was no logic to it, nor scientific fact. Ink just wasn't afraid of storms.
Yet she was afraid of Committee members?
The mental image made her snort in a fairly unladylike fashion. No, she wasn't afraid of them either, just the potential rejection. There was a difference between wanting to help and being able to help. She didn't know this world like the back of her hand, not yet at least, but she could follow orders easily enough if they made sense and she agreed with them.
"Oh, come off it already," she told herself, not at all concerned with the fact that speaking to oneself is a question to one's sanity. "They're perfectly fine people, nothing to worry about. Either I can help them or I can't, that's all." She rolled her eyes to the heavens, a small grin pulling at the corners of her lips. Indeed, the people in this world alone were far more accepting than those back in Paris. But old habits die hard. One of these days, she'll talk herself into actually going up and saying hello to one of the Committee members. They were friendly enough from what she'd seen, so her hesitance was her own issue.
"Donat would join the Committee." Her tone was wry, and she couldn't help but smirk. Of course her childhood friend would join; it would give him something to do, a way to keep himself out of too much trouble. "Trouble as in jumping from the Bailey, most likely."
Could she see the Bailey from here? Ink squinted her eyes, trying to find the structure behind the rain. After a moment she sighed, relaxing her eyes. She couldn't see it, but that was fine. It was probably a sign that she should go inside now, since either the rain had gotten worse or she was looking in the opposite direction and needed to sit down for a while. She'd been outside training with her longsword earlier today, which resulted in one accidental slash across the trunk of some poor tree and sore muscles that would only worsen by tomorrow.
Silently, she inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly and with a small, calm smile. She didn't care that she'd be sore in the morning. She didn't care that it was still raining and she probably looked like a nearly drowned cat. Being happy with such odds, such facts or possibilities mattered more to her now, since she was thankful that at least she was still around to experience them.
I do not own the picture used for her appearance. Credit goes to the original artist.