X-Men: United (Rated M)
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May 8th, 2013 (05:32 PM).
Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: Who knows?
Sneaks in- Just going to drop this off... *sneaks out*
Syr (pronounced See-er)
Attractive is not the word you would think of to describe Kaya right away, if she were left to her own devices. Of course you would have to see her first. But when you do see her, she is very... I suppose filthy would be the right word. Small and always looking at the ground, matted auburn hair falling over her face to the point where you can't even see her eyes, she is a very disgusting individual from a distance. She knows this, Kaya likes this. She hopes it will get people to leave her alone.
Unfortunately these days she cannot take this above appearance, except once in a great while. Her hair was forced to be brushed until it gleamed, but it still rests over her face rather blindly on one side. It would take a lot of skill to notice the glimmering green eyes that hold more caution than curiosity. Peek-a-bangs indeed.
Kaya has a cute figure when she bothers to show it. Well, almost. Her left hand is permanently disfigured and mutilated, almost to match the bites like human teeth and the gouging of nails that eventually stopped going away. Her wrists and ankles show signs of handcuffs chafing her skin and there is a permanent limp in her petite step. Small and even now, still underweight, she cannot shake her roots of the place she lived, no matter how much people scrub off the dirt, no matter how much the girl attempts a smile. Don't even get her started on the bandages on her neck either.
Now that she has clothes that do come close to fitting her, she is very often seen in them. However, the ones she came home in still have an odd place in her heart, so secretly packed away from her is the revealing dress she had been in, resewn into a pillow by her father. Kaya instead, wears a hunter green, frilly sleeved shirt, revealing more of her arms and her breasts than she desires. Her legs are notably hidden by long dirt-brown pants that are almost like jeans. She wishes her arms could be covered more but the feeling of her arms being bare is something she is much too used to.
An adamant flower with blue petals rests upon the center of her collarbone, a lotus. It is a brooch, held there by a violet fabric clasped in the back. It is good luck charm, an expensive one.
Depending on her feelings at the time of using her powers, she tends to wear a relatively soft outfit. A Valkyrie in form, at least in part, she stands as a young woman, almost as she is supposed to. Confident, warm, almost able to take charge over the situation, her auburn hair is brushed out of her face and tied into a braid. Kaya even stands a little taller, dressed in a pure white sleeveless robe tied with golden thread that falls down to her ankles. Her feet are remarkably bare, as though she is now suddenly too cool for shoes. Over her arms is a cloak of feathers. She also has a pouch of silver darts wrapped around her waist. When she is afraid, the power tends to crackle, like she’s burning wood and her eyes have a tendency of turning orange. Otherwise, it is relatively calm. Of course, if she could help it, her mutation wouldn’t be used at all.
It's not easy to forget what you are. The fairy tale prince ending doesn't exist; there is no happily ever after that comes out all right. You have to heal slowly, or hope to do it. But sometimes you don't. And the shadow lingers like a bruise on your brain.
Kaya knows this very well.
Timid and obedient, Kaya Alabast is frequently forgotten and left to waste away on her own. This is what she wants. If she is noticed, the hands will roam and she will likely fall into a panic attack. She was supposed to be a Valkyrie, but instead, she is too meek, too willing to follow the crowd. She is expecting fondling, assault in a safe environment and the mere concept of this event sends her into terrors at the simple tap on the shoulder. It's rather painful to watch at times, but if she's aware of the pity sent her way, she will not speak of it. Pain and pleasure have mixed rather thickly in her mind and pity is rather misinterpreted. She is very sensitive to the emotions people have; but she doesn’t have any idea what they mean.
In truth Kaya doesn't speak at all really. No one has heard it except her father and even then it is reportedly a whisper. Most of the time, if you catch her attention, she'll write on a white board and hide her face behind it. Even if she did talk, it'd be to the floor. However, it isn't because she's quiet that she's intelligent. It's because books are her new escape. And a part of her is still in deep shock, uncertain of how real this is and how she is supposed to behave. She can't even do social mannerisms properly for the most part. Eye contact? Nope. Speaking properly and not at the floor? Nope. Shaking hands. Certainly nope.
When she finally opens up to someone Kaya becomes rather dependent on their company. She won't say much and you may forget she's there... but she may be found following you like a lost puppy, just listening or working. It happened to her father... but it will likely take a long time for her to do such a thing in this new environment, particularly with over-familiarity likely to occur.
Kaya has quite a bit of despair in her, believing this really isn't happening and she's just trying to comfort herself over the real suffering. This makes her inwardly spiteful and her thoughts can frequently be dark and icy. In reality seeing another in pain gives her a pulse of pleasure and a desire for people to have more of it and enjoy it. It's not simply out of anger, but because it's been very hard for her to tell the clear difference between her suffering and their enjoyment. So for all she knows that's giving them what they want, making it worse. This sort of heartless person, so quickly spiteful and cruel, is practically another part of herself, the part that was able to give what was wanted and needed. Though indistinct, selfish, even rather naive and foolish, this is Syr. And she is not happy to be here. Syr is also talkative, chatty and general out-and-out annoying.
However, as her kindness has been blossoming, unknowingly tended by her father's care, Kaya also struggles to be brave enough to speak and smile again, genuine smiles. She does make the effort to smile at servants and help in silence. As she grows more comfortable, doing this will likely become more second nature and normal. She doesn't mind assisting others... as long as she doesn't have to touch them. She's even been able to cry at dying puppies. She has a severe, contradictory hatred of her mutation, even though her father and fellows at her home feel no shame in it. She hates it for multiple reasons; its untimely appearance, the danger of it, and that it requires a type of thing that she simply cannot do yet.
Not everyone has a wonderful start, but everyone certainly has to try and make the best of it. Kaya knows this. However, understanding and doing is easier said than done.
Kaya Alabast was born in London, the pregnancy difficult and also not taking place in a hospital. It was a young woman, a high schooler to be precise. She had made more than quite a few mistakes and one of those was not contacting the father. Though... she didn't have a phone. A... worker at a prostitute agency (to keep this polite) struck a deal with the young, impressionable teenager. We pay for your hospital trip; you give up the child. Rather not wanting to die, the young teen agreed to this, not entirely sure of the deal she had just struck and what would happen to her newborn daughter. She was happy someone would be able to provide for her though and even more pleased that they would both likely live through this.
She was rather off... wasn't she?
There was little use for a baby in a prostitute agency in truth. However, this man was clever. He had a messenger in that little girl and someone to brainwash into the arts of pleasure and money-making while doing it, even teaching her how to read and write. Though a little girl was not much pleasure for any normal person, that didn't mean those kinds of people did not exist. And even though Kaya didn't entirely grasp the situation, she was well aware of the wrongness of it as well. Because the touches and words continued to vary and swirl in her mind, it leaded to her simply shutting down and obeying, fearful of what would happen otherwise. Punishments were not very kindly done. One of these had actually torn apart her left hand, it unable to heal properly. Then again, was pleasure not the same, bruises that sang of desire? Because of this, her mutation, which could have manifested sooner, was held back and rightly so. She could have killed someone. Or a lot of someones.
It was at the age of ten that everything changed. Then twenty-five-year-old James Alabast, father to young Kaya, who had until that moment had gone by Caron, something that the worker had found endearing, stormed the place, for lack of a better term. He had found her existence out from her mother, who had long since left the country. Guilty for not knowing and possibly considering such a thing happening, he hunted down his daughter to try and repair what damage he could. In truth, as he would admit to her later, he had wanted children but he didn't know it would be... quite so young as this. Since Kaya had been sleeping in her tiny cot at the time before being whisked out to her own family, the first thought in the little girl's mind was that she was being kidnapped and her boss would not get his pay.
Over the long drive back to the house they would live in, James spoke quietly and explained this all to her. She expected something horrible to happen o her during this. However, he did not go near her or reach out to her barring to carry her inside and examine her health. And even then, his fingers only ghosted over her. To anyone else, this would have been a sign of dislike. But to Kaya, it was respect and perhaps that made him endear to her. So did the name Kaya, the first thing she could honestly claim was hers.
That isn't to say the first year or so wasn't awkward and that it still isn't now. Oh no, they had quite a lot of trouble with each other due to Kaya's constant fear of the associate worker waking her for a job she was harmed by. Also, James was struggling to understand how to work with such a different child than his imagination. Kaya did not have the fear that he did not love her like other children would. She had no idea what the word meant. However, when James did take the risk of hugging her, she did realize that he was a safe person and to be safe around someone meant so much more. What also helped was that, due to his high status, he could afford to buy many books and materials and homeschool her. It rather amused the servants, who remembered the irresponsible brat who skipped school and stole from candy shops. Perhaps this was what allowed them to adore little Kaya, who soaked up information like a sponge. He taught and she learned and slowly Jamie began to make a girl out of a street rat. The therapist did help, even though Kaya barely spoke to her.
It is unfortunate, but this life was not magically sunshine and rainbows afterward. Her mutation, which had been unintentionally held back by fear, decided to show itself during a walk in the garden. She had been frightened off by a group of her father’s fellow businessmen, and while he was looking for her, she managed to get herself caught in a rosebush. Panic mounting, James heard her screaming bloody murder and found her still caught in the thorny vines and bleeding. Wherever her hands scrabbled however, the plants died and weakened their grip, and small cuts from the thorns were quickly healing. Finally managing to get her free, he found his daughter unharmed aside from her clothing, and a prized rosebush rotting in the dirt. Unfortunately Kaya was not even close to calm. Syr, who had been completely disinterested in the goings on, was suddenly aroused, and was trying to peek her head out.James managed to calm her, and with some reluctance, sent a letter to Professor Xavier. He had not quite wanted to, because he didn’t really trust his daughter in a dangerous setting like that after only a few years. He knew he was lucky she trusted him.
However, he did respond and promptly informed the father that his daughter could possibly be healed as thoroughly there as here, but if her mutation went out of control again, rumors might spread. Mutants were not exactly the most wonderful existence in Europe either.
- she is able to soothe the pain of others by taking it into herself, almost to the point where they forget it exists. The sense of peaceful warmth ensures the rest of her ability, the restoration of cells and energy in a person, sometimes to extent of searing a wound closed. In return, her body opens up the wounds and is yet too weak and uncontrolled to do little more than cuts and bruises or plants. Living cells are her limit. She can’t make a pencil tap dance.
Related to the deeply set sadism in her, she can makes someone feel all of the pain she has felt with a simple touch. This also makes it very easy for her to turn her power from revive cells to destroying them and taking the energy for herself. However, both of these require physical contact with living creatures and Kaya simply does not have the emotional willpower to do that. The ability is limited to around her hands unless extremely emotional, and even then, it usually knocks her unconscious. Very unhelpful. Not that Syr is much better.
Planes were new. They were very new. They were also bigger than her, shinier, and certainly reflective.
Kaya had read a lot about planes. Heroes in books seemed to favor them, or simply favor flight in general. Kaya wondered why. James had not been able to answer the one time she had murmured loud enough to hear. He had laughed actually, carefree, rather embarrassed laughter. She still wondered how the sound could be quite like that.
There was a snore from next to her ear and a grunt. Kaya almost jumped and then saw the pale, sleeping face of her father. Or the man who called himself her father. What the difference may have been she couldn’t tell herself. He had been anxious since that letter had come in the mail only days before. She had not read it of course, rule thirteen in the how-to-survive-boss handbook (coined by her fellows and unforgettable) was never read the mail without express permission from the writer. At any rate, if it made kind, passive James unhappy, then it was something to be cautious of. The servants all said that, and Kaya always listened to the servants. They were smarter than she about such matters.
If Mr. James was so agitated, could it be about the plane? Could it be about the place they had to go to? She hoped it would have lots of flowers. Only a few days ago, she had discovered peonies in a secret part of the house and spent hours trying to draw them. She had failed, naturally. Kaya had neither been encouraged nor discouraged by this failure. She had simply tried again after her free hand had stopped hurting. She still was horrible at writing with her non dominant hand. Kaya would manage. She had to. James couldn’t talk for her all the time. He certainly wanted to.
Her gaze, half-hidden, traveled out to view the window of the plane. It was so vibrant, full of greens and reds and many colors of flowers and cars. They had to be going to a strange place then, one much like London. So it would be noisy... and painful... and full of people.
Kaya cringed in her seat. Like an unspoken cue, her father’s thumb stroked the top of her mangled hand. She almost cringed again, wishing to hide her face in auburn curls. James yawned in her face, making her jump. Some of the girls had always done that, except it was on her ear. He blinked his green eyes at her like an owl and smiled. It was strained and seemed to cause him pain.
“Mr. James?” she uttered softly. “Do you... not want to do this?” Whatever this may have been.
He blinked. The man had not expected it clearly. Then he shook his head, thumb continuing to lazily circle the bones under her scarred knuckles. “Afraid not. I finally found you Kaya. Just because the world hates mutations and difference-” He saw her flinch as realization hit her. “Doesn’t mean I do. However,” James let out an unhappy sigh. “I want to keep you safe... from the world and you.” Kaya blinked. Those phrases were new. “And that means you have to learn what you can do. Or what you could do.” She nodded slowly. Kaya did not understand, but a lump formed in the pit of her stomach as the plane began to descend.
So she was going to a school far away from James... and London... and... what she knew.
“Professor Xavier,” her father began softly. “Is a good man. He has strong, kind ideals, and a bit too much honor. It has kept those with the X-Gene safe all these years, so it counts for something. You will be fine. I’ll write. Gosh knows you can’t answer a phone.”
A small giggle escaped Kaya’s lips as the runway grew wider in her sight. She could be scared; she already was, but there was an alien sort of pleasure in knowing Mr. James was unhappy too.
Perhaps it was comfort.
"What Tama wishes for is..."
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