Naoe Nagi Character Application
Your name: Gabby, Sonneillon, Fate
Your email: firstname.lastname@example.org
AIM/AOL SN: blackangelfate
Character's name: Naoe Nagi
LiveJournal ID: code_prodigy
RP Experience: Extensive. Hunter: The Reckoning at www.hunter--net.org for seven years, Weiss at endlosschatten, Weiss at Dead_Ringer, Multiple genres on Yahell when Yahell had RP worth having (like ten years ago), tabletop White Wolf, D&D, and Shadowrun
A sample of how you would like to play your character:
The crush of bodies, the scent of spilled alcohol and sweat, and the deafening throb of bass let him escape for a while, let him not be a god trapped in a human body, forced to pretend to be part of the herd. Let him float without unleashing his power and ride on a sea of bodies. All of them felt like he did, to a certain degree. All of them were beating their fists against the bars of a cage, wanting out. Their cage just wasn't as restraining as his. The wings that beat frantically against their ribs were of an entirely different feather.
He was beginning to feel the seductive burn of exhaustion. Well, no wonder - he'd been here drinking and dancing since 8pm and it was getting close to 4am. His buzz (he didn't get truly drunk, too risky, like many things where his Gift was concerned) had worn off but the club buzz was still there. He was naturally high.
Still. He sat on the cracked vinyl benches to catch his breath and decide whether to get a glass of water and go back out, or give it up and go home. He leaned against the nearest person, a slim male around his age with black hair and cobalt-blue eyes. Pretty. Dressed to attract. He offered an exhausted smile by way of apology and was rewarded with an arm draped around him, lips brushing his temple. He leaned back into this, sprawling against the willing body and letting himself be embraced and tugged back into the other man's lap. Let his back be rubbed through his t-shirt, let himself be kissed. Let his heavy canvas pants be unbuttoned and unzipped, bucked into the hand that slipped into them and let himself be tipped back and ravished.
Later, sated and thoroughly exhausted, he trudged up the stairs to the place they were renting, tiny and cramped, barely functional, but the only way to stay off the radar in Prague. At that point, it was 5am and Crawford wasn't awake yet (he got up at six) so Nagi was extra-quiet as he moved through the living room where the Oracle slept and into his bedroom. He'd wait to take a shower after Crawford was awake. There wouldn't be any hot water left, but he knew where the tank was and he could heat it himself, agitate the molecules until the temperature was to his liking.
Crawford slept lightly on the pull-out couch, contorted slightly to keep the many lumps from poking into his back. Nagi cat-stepped past him, using levitation to catch himself when soreness from the evening's activities caught up to him, and managed to get to his own cot without incident. He lay down gratefully, swallowing a groan, and dozed lightly until Crawford got up an hour later to dress and make his coffee. The scent woke Nagi fully and he pulled himself out of bed to eat some cereal while Crawford strapped on the necessary accrouments for his work for the day.
"You're going out today?" he wondered aloud.
Crawford glanced up, took in the shadows under his eyes and the smudged streak of blue in his hair. "Get some sleep," he recommended. "Eight hours if you can. We'll be traveling soon."
Great. Fucking great. Nagi swallowed that reaction. "Joy," he said simply, sarcastically. "So, where to this time? Got to be better than the fucking Czech Republic."
Crawford smirked wryly and reached over, putting a hand on Nagi's wrist where it lay on the table, fingers curling around the leather cuff decorated haphazardly with metal studs. "Not this time, Nagi," he said simply. "I've learned all I can. It's too dangerous for us to stay this close any longer. They've become too strong... we're going home."
For a long moment, Nagi didn't process that. Then, slowly, it seeped down into his exhausted mind. "Wait," he said. "Home? As in... Japan?" He hesitated before suggesting the next bit. "... Tokyo?"
Crawford nodded. "After you get some sleep," he said firmly, "not before, I want you to see if you can find any sign of Schuldig or Farfarello. If they're there..." If they're alive, he refrained from saying, "I want to know how to find them. It's very important we reach them as soon as possible."
Nagi gaped. Then closed his mouth with a slight snap. Schuldig. Farfarello. Fuck, could they even be alive? Five years, he was an adult now, taller and filled out, hardened. But Farfarello was so deeply broken and Schuldig needed someone for support... what would they have been doing? Where would they be living? Were they okay or were they unraveling? He'd thought about all this before, just never as intensely as right now, never as desperately.
Crawford left him there at the table, looking stricken, staring blankly into space, wondering. It was a long time before he got up, carefully, and stumbled to the cot. He collapsed, feeling as though he was a stranger in his own body. Sleep found him and he dreamed. He dreamed he was sitting on the back steps of a church, and Farfarello was sitting next to him holding a porcelain doll with a shattered face, and Schuldig was basking in the sunlight on the grass. And Far smiled and showed him the doll, and Nagi took it, and wound its dark hair into a twisted braid.
Time constraints: I work strange hours, but I've got plenty of free time.