Bronx Omalara

[Bronx]

W E L C O M E T O E L Y S I U M

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CHARACTER APPEARANCE

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T H E B A S I C S FULL NAME: Bronks Bronx Omalara PET NAMES: n/a AGE: Twenty BIRTH DATE: 28 September BIRTH PLACE: Tychite District GENDER: Female SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight MARITAL STATUS: Single OCCUPATION: Wench FEALTY: Anarchy! OUT OF CHARACTER: B WAYS OF CONTACT: yahell: hellotokidoki EMAIL: [If you’re into that sort of thing.]

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HISTORY:

Piss poor and drunk. The Omalara name has a seedy background mixed in with the slime and dirt that makes the dirt under the Empire’s fingernails. Bronks’s father was a crude sailor, son of a failed shop owner. He had an undying passion for the sea and lust for the liquor to make life easy. It’d be lies if one was to say it was love at first sight when Middy Omalara saw Bronx’s mother. A soiled and shitface sailor regaining his land legs had enough coins in his pocket to buy him a night of drunken bliss with the beauty Dea. Best damn prostitute this side of the setting sun! The story goes Dea marched her pregnant self up to Sailor Omalara and decked him clean in the mouth. Told him to be a daddy to their baby if he wanted to live through the night! Cheers roared from the bar and the man swept the now exhooker in a kiss.

Growing up was always an adventure. Dea was a wench at the bar she once worked between the sheets and Bronx’s father continued to sail, only liquored up when at home for the entertainment of a very energetic Bronx. It was easy for the boisterous girl with forest green eyes to run and even beat out the boys her age. She ran jump and explored whatever ship she could slip onto and tease the sailors. Her father told her endless stories of the open sea. Her favorite tales revolving around the smoking barrel of pirates. She learned to read and write by a chance of luck. Captains coming in to flirt with Dea would see the spitting image Bronx had to the former prostitute. The girl had a crude sort of charming personality that the men found entertaining and intoxicating. They’d teach her swear words in different languages. How to tie knots and even what different flags and codes meant.

It was blatantly obvious Bronx was happy growing up. Working with her mother in the bar to serve drinks when she wasn’t picket pocketing and attempting to trick Captains to let her sail with them. Of course, that was never an options. A woman on board a ship? No! By the gods, it was damned bad luck! Burly fights and drunken nights of table hopping poker betting glass smashing nights were always on Bronx’s agenda.

ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:

Her face scrunched, lips pursing with the acute ping that told Toki she was hurt. That some where, some how, something was causing her physical pain. Sea foam eyes were slow to drop to her hand. There, just under the nail of her right pointer finger, blood bubbled up to greet the day. A paper cut.

And then the sting.

She clenched her teeth. Inhaling the smoke filled air around her. She had found Tatyn’s emergency pack. Actually, she had found Tatyn’s cartons and four emergency packs. She hadn’t said much to anyone lately. Not since the downpour days ago. Days. It had only been days and yet she felt like the whole ordeal had shaved off years. Here she was. Twenty years old. Immortal. Smoking the ever loving fuck out of whatever nicotine she could grasp. Toki Yuki was a monster.

A monster who wanted too much, dreamt too big, and didn’t know enough. A monster that could clench her teeth and not breath a word as someone she loved visibly crumbled before her. In fact, this monster could not bat one of those thick black eye lashes that framed her too-wide eyes as she forced herself past it all. Past whatever horror, fear, grief, and anything else that should melt ones heart…and march on.

Marching to a path she knew would end in darkness. She was pushing her luck. Pushing it to the point she had alienated one side of the balance of things she had worked -so- damn hard to create. Well, Toki had never been one to dwell. She had to keep going. Chin stubbornly raised a fraction of an inch, eyes narrowed, and fists clenched. She would be damned if she stopped now.

She did it as a kid to her parents. And where were they? Who knew. Toki didn’t After the car crash, Toki didn’t even stop to think about them once. That was, until now. Fitting. Ironic. Sick. Yes, sick was the best word.

And Yumiko? She was probably dead. And Toki probably was the cause of that one. When she had first turned, Toki thought about Yumiko whenever she slept. Reliving that dream over and over. That was of course, until she joined the Midnights. What a half-assed idea.

Blinking hard, she blocked those thoughts from her head. No sense in dwelling on stupid mistakes. Although, Toki did have them to thank for Tatyn and her putting their shit aside. She could remember the passionate speech she had preached to the then timid though hard-headed Horror. She had meant every word in a sense. That “gang” just wasn’t the correct way to go about it.

Anyways.

Toki dragged her slender fingers through her mess of hair. The lack of sleep, constant moving. Constant going. Constant worry. It was all starting to nibble at her edges to the point of delirious thinking.

“This is bullshit.”

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