Demon Realm

May 2017 Featured RPG

Alois Henche

I learned from the best. Let's play.
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Onii OOC Information

Status
Created
Threads
Posts
IC Posts
Offline
01-16-2018
12
199
197

Character Information

Character Type
Face Claim
Solo Demon
Nastya Kusakina
Human Pronouns
Human Age
Demon Pronouns
Demon Age
N/A
N/A
She | Her
Newborn
Faction
Profession
Kairos
Alehkar Garieptol's Heir

Character Summary

— Precise, exact, studious, eerily unassuming — her age will surprise you. It will surprise you because she does not act it, no, not in your presence. No room for error. No room for imperfections. Not acceptable. Never wrong. Never surprised. Never taken the best of. Nihilistic — or antagonistic — watching the walls come down all around her while she sits there in the midst of chaos, legs crossed and sipping her tea. Shadows are not excitable. Dispassionate, seemingly so, but no less quirky or eccentric for it. She is a blend of simple girlish qualities wrapped up in an ageless entity's mannerisms. Alternating between the polar ends of the mixture and leaving you attempting to find out what's her reality and what's simply her toying with you. Who is she, really?
Perhaps she already knows. Perhaps she's just playing with you.


— TBD THROUGH PLAY


Name // Alois Henche
Pronunciation // Al-Oh-Ees
Sex // XX
Status // Single
Height // 5'6
Weight // 100lbs; petite
Eyes // silver
Hair // blonde; almost white
Natural Form // Shadow
Appetite // Sanity & Disbelief
Mother // Kashiro Henche
Father // Alehkar Garieptol
Twin Brother // Alius Henche
Personality Type // Developing...
Alignment // Developing...
Ascensions
Dominions
Empathy

Legendary // Control

Hallucinations

Minor // Control

Character In-Depth

THE PSYCHOANALYTIC BREAKDOWN

God Complex

"I do not think that's true. ..So it isn't."


She is perfect. They are perfect. Their surname makes people shudder to realize it — and she enjoys that sensation more than all the gifts and tributes the common man offer both twins the moment they're aware of their familial ties to two Vice Lords. Some of the biggest demons. Some of the strongest demons. Some of the most perfect demons — and as she knows, two impeccable things make for perfect byproducts. She doesn't know more than you. She doesn't know more about the world, she doesn't know more about society, she doesn't know more about media, disasters, history — because those are all things she can learn at any time she wants to. What makes better than you is her grasp of higher order concepts, things she claims cannot be learned by opening a book that she can get anywhere. Hardly phased, hardly surprised, hardly ever moved.


Like she's watching a show, watching a play unfold and she has no stake in the game, no threat to her, no worry because she can simply end the production with a wave of her hand. You fascinate her not like a person not like an equal but like she's got a magnifying glass down on you. Intrigued by that witty little way you walk, impressed by your very interesting trials and tribulations that she will never suffer through herself. Meditative state, always. Reflection, always — even if she doesn't share it with you, even if she never deems you worthy as more than a toy to keep her company in the waiting room. She'll act and she'll act suddenly or slowly or swiftly and has no need to explain. A game. Yes. She's playing a game and you're a part of it but — you're not a participant.

You're a game piece.

Imaginary Friends

"They are my friends. I do think I love them."


There's something undoubtedly unsettling about the sheer detail of these things she talks about, these personalities, these entities, these things that seem to know things you would not expect her to, or to have thoughts that do not at all align with hers. She can be angered by these entities, surprised by them, taken off guard like they are not her own thoughts, like there's a field of existence that you aren't seeing but she is. If this is just a game she is playing with you then it is the most detailed one she has ever played, because it's impossible to tell whether she knows if they are real or if they're imaginary. She will say things that confuse you, switch back and forth, like you're talking to someone with spells of hallucinations. You'll think to humor her like you would for any child, ask her if one of her friends broke a vase or a tore the pages from a book and she'll stare you dead in the face like you're a fool and say "Of course not. Imaginary things have no power. You know that, yes?" like the little god is belittling the very thought! And yet, in other moments she will be completely consumed by them, their existence, their wants, will look to an empty chair over favor of your own face before telling you "Macklin says you're dressed like a whore. I do not know what that is. Explain?"


They are very important to her, these things. These people. These clean entities, these things who do not usually clash with her personality — but over time their numbers seem to grow. They are not very problematic for her, but for the one who tries to become part of her world, well. You have to convince them not to ask her to kill you, too.

The Watcher

"I am my father's daughter."


Absolutely daddy's little girl — and you'll know it before she even tells you, before you even know who she is. Her eyes. Her manners. The way she predominantly speaks, the way she views you, your world, how messy it is, how unfit, do not fucking touch her because while she is predominantly him, it's her mother's temper that sits beneath her skin. She has seen anger, she knows how to manifest it, and she loses herself in it if you force it out of her. She is not excitable, her smiles small and rare unless she fakes them, unless she makes herself more like you to trick you, more like you to play with you, more like you to torture you. She is a watcher. She is a shadow. She plays, but she does not take the game by the horns — not always. Not when she has her twin brother to do that for her. She enjoys to watch him, follow, clean up his messes, plays a minor part, a nuanced part of the game when she plays with him and they play quite often. The spitting image dynamic of the two who made them, with the excitable one turning to check for the other and the other simply responding "Yes. I see it. I am watching." always watching. They are shadows, are they not?

She adores them both, both Hydra and Shadow who made her such that she has chosen his eyes and her hair and his quiet but her temper and his expressions and her curiosity. But she meshes best with him, learns lessons from him catered to who she is, what she is. Shadow following Shadow, following his footprints, hands clasped around the cuff of his overcoat like he is her only lifeline. He is how she understands best what she is, what she is meant to do. In his presence her eyes sparkle, and if you watch closely you may see her, for once, be no more than a little girl.

The Tea Parties

"You will not play tea party with me. Why. Why will you not? You have to."


You really do have to. You do. Because the last one who said "no" met her mother's wrath and the one before that had been the subject of a cruel, destructive fate that she maintains was her Friends' doing. The Tea Parties. She has them at least once a day, most often at the same time, cannot go a day without one. Not always do they call for guests and some are specifically private, but through whatever judgement concocted in her head she often looks for fresh new faces to enjoy them with them all. You'll be seated at the other head of the large banquet table while she takes the other side, and between you will be many chairs. Many invisible faces. Many people. A council. And they will speak and she will speak and share their conglomerate thoughts. A strange method of meditation? Of sorting through all her ideas and deciding who she is? That's what you want to think — that's what we all want to think, that it is no more suspicious than that, a young thing trying to find what she believes and using the metaphor of these unseen creatures at a tea party. I wouldn't be so sure.


Things happen. Things happen all the time during these. Ideas shared, plans made, games chosen to play — you expect something so tame and contained and it almost never is. Because the moment you enter the tea room you have the most unsettling feeling — as you should. Just survive. Just survive it. Because this is the quickest way to her heart, the only way to her heart; to join her, to meet all her friends, to understand their ideas, to weigh in, to play whatever they want. If only you can survive, if only you can endure, perhaps you'll be marked "friend." Join The Tea Party.

Demon Information

THE SHADOW


Demon Type: Shadow
True Form: Unknown


— TBD HERE



companion

A SOLO DEMON WHO ACTS AS A FIERCE, DEDICATED BODYGUARD. DECLAN IS A VERY CONSISTENT COMPANION OF ALOIS ASSIGNED TO HER BY HER MOTHER, KASHIRO HENCHE. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO HIM TO.. PREPARE HIM FOR THIS TASK — BUT HE DOESN'T SPEAK, HAS A VERY ANIMAL AFFECT TO HIM AND IS ALWAYS IN THE FORM OF A DOBERMAN. DESPITE HAVING A STRICT PURPOSE TO PROTECT AND SERVE, ALOIS SEES HIM MORE AS A PET, A TOY. HER FIRST NON-IMAGINARY FRIEND. THE ANTI-DOMINION CHOKE CHAIN AROUND HIS NECK KEEPS HIM IN LINE. NOT THAT IT'S NECESSARY — HE KNOWS WHAT BECOMES OF HIM IF THE HEIR IS EVER DISPLEASED WITH HER MOTHER'S GIFT.

Name // Declan
Pronunciation // Deck-Clan
Type // Solo Demon
Sex // XY
Height // 4'0
Weight // 500lbs
Eyes // glowing red
Hair // standard doberman
Personality Type // INTJ-A; The Architect
Alignment // Chaotic Evil