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Améa Nedvidek

Narragyambie
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Améa Nedvidek last won the day on June 23

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  • Age
    25
  • Blood Status
    Halfbreed
  • Species
    Sorceraic
  • Pronouns
    She/Her
  • Played By
    Kaya Scodelario
  • Testing
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  • Pronouns
    She/Her
  • Time Zone
    GMT+10:00

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  • Status Counter 4
  • IC Post Count 7
  • Playerx Sadrienne
  • Plot Wants
  • Char DOB Man
  • Char PB Kaya Scodelario
  • Char RAC Sorceraic
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  • Birthdate Day 23
  • Birthdate Month 10
  • Birthdate Year 1993
  • Unknown Age
  1. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    Améa tilted her head to one side, disbelieving of the notion as Vladimir said it. "Was it failure true, or did another fail you?" she asked. "It is much easy to confuse the two. Some can only blame others for failures they create, and others fall to always assuming themselves to be the cause---you seem the latter, dear Vladimir. Unless by direct action, and with known intent, did you cause something to happen---it is not your failure. Sometimes it is only circumstance, and you cannot carry such weight." The panic fading away, Améa felt more relaxed than she had in months. Perhaps Vladimir had drained away some of the uncomfortable excess, perhaps that burst of fright was exhausting. All the same, she leaned in against him and found a position that was most comfortable, almost as though Vladimir were her favourite chair. Perhaps, for as long as she was small enough to fit, he would be. "If I am say, to run from this place now. Where you cannot be find me, and harm does come---that is not a failure of you. That is a failure of me. If it should be that for all our efforts, one should come and cause me harm, that is not a failure of you. That is a failure of life," a small hand reached up, patting his cheek. "I know it is that for anything you have power to control, you will not allow harm. For long as that is true, you will never fail me. Even if bad should happen, I am knowing it is not because you wanted such, or cared too little. You want for the good, you try for the good---and so the bad can never be your failure." Anyone observing them would have been surprised to see Améa speak so much at once, or being so affectionate. Améa herself was surprised by how easily it flowed, how important it seemed that she tell Vladimir this. Watching over Adele was the most difficult task she'd done in her life, and one that burdened her with guilt for the failures she could not control. To think that Vladimir carried similar, unnecessary, weight around with him made her sad. "I too also say such with serious," she added. "For such oaths, some terrible things I have done---but if it is sworn, so must it be followed. Though I am believing you are not like to put me in such position, dear Vladimir."
  2. Invite Something Happened

    The house was unlocked and the lights were on, which suggested Adele was home. Inside, everything was as you would expect for a small family with a newborn. Tiny clothes hung all over the place, soft toys on the floor. Caleb's things had migrated to his room, at his absolute insistence. He did not want "that thing" touching his stuff, the worst of his jealous side coming out with this latest intrusion in his life. Not being connected to the family as Améa was, presumably he was still in bed asleep. A bouncer on the floor and a rug on the couch indicated that Adele herself had probably fallen asleep while rocking the baby, but neither were there now. As the bitter wind picked up, it blew in from the back of the house. An open door. Améa, who clung tight to Stuart, pointed in the direction of the gust. Adele was definitely here, she could feel it. Stronger and stronger with every step. The house backed on to a large yard, and then bushland. David had taken the ugly tin fence down, replacing it with a smaller wire fence to better see what they could of the creek. It was possible to see the gentle running water from the back door. No answer came to Stuart's call. Adele stood, just out of hearing range. A sillhouette against moonlit water, past the fence and standing by the creek. As they got closer, they could see she was in some manner of trouble. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt far too light for the weather, she sobbed and tried to scream---but her voice was already worn down. Cradled against her, the baby cried, too. That was at least a good sign. Améa tapped Stuart's shoulder, a touch more relaxed now they had eyes on Adele. The closer they went the more Adele's distress seared her mind, and it was beyond unbearable already. "I am no help for this," she said, dropping to the ground. "I am see if Caleb well, Mamiere I is leave to you." She didn't wait for an answer, merely sprinted back toward the house. Améa had never been able to deal with other people's emotions well, least of all her mother---who seemed to have so many of them. It troubled her deeply that Adele was wandering aimlessly up and down the bank of the creek, with no shoes and minimal clothing, in the middle of the night. All she could do was bring someone here who could help. Stuart would be able to fix this, in that she had faith.
  3. Invite Something Happened

    Améa sat bolt-upright in bed, a hand clutched at her chest. The jolt of pain had been sudden, complete, a piercing of the soul that took the breath from her lungs in an instant. She swung her legs out of bed, jumping down to the floor before she could even fully recover. The worst had come and gone, but left a trail of agony to its distant source. Something had happened. Awkward, uneven footsteps clattered down the hall as she raced without her usual grace down to the far bedroom. There was so little she could do, and yet she still felt it all. How was this fair? What use was there in being the watcher, the keeper, if she could not act? But even were she not forcibly limited, this was difficult in and of itself. She had not the relationship to confront this agony, but she knew who did. "Mr Stuart!" she shouted, banging with both hands flat on his bedroom door. "Mr Stuart!" Without ceremony, she slammed the door open, not caring if the house heard the bang or herself as she sprinted to the side of his bed. In her panic, she noticed not whether he was awake, pushing roughly at his shoulder in her effort to rouse him. "Mr Stuart! Mr---Father! I am need you, mamiere is need you!" she said, words tripping over themselves in her haste to speak. The sharpness of Adele's sudden pain still echoed in her heart, twisting uncomfortably with each passing second. Améa had felt this before, but nowhere near so intense. She continued to push at Stuart's shoulder, so desperate in her effort to wake him she didn't realise if he already was. "Please. Nothing is I am can do, she is pain. You is help? Please you is help."
  4. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    At least he sat down. For that, she was thankful. If he collapsed, the fall would be less and she would stand at least some chance of guiding him more gently to the ground than if he were standing. Worry still buzzed through her, staring at his closed eyes, re-assessing his situation which had once again changed suddenly. Like the very energy had been ripped from him, violently, she worried still that he might fall. Perhaps it was for this reason that she sat herself on his knee, to anchor him onto the chair, turned slightly to one side that she could peer up at his face as he opened his eyes and spoke again. His hand on her shoulder did, in some small part, soothe her concern. The worst was over and she knew that, he was here and speaking, the words he said made sense. She cursed herself for not considering the difference sooner. Yes, perhaps it was to ensure that he remained safely in place that she curled in toward him. Or perhaps it was something else. A lingering after effect of the sudden fear, something more than mere guilt for what she had unwittingly put him through, that made her seek the comfort of proximity. Not the functional place upon his shoulders, but the affectionate position that she, as a true child, had occupied in the company of her father. A comfort she had forbidden herself from any other, yet another punishment imposed upon herself. Her breathing still uneven as it calmed after the panic, she tried to tell herself it was for his security and safety, and therefore not against the rules she had set. But she knew. This was not for Vladimir. It was for herself. Because that panic had come with a sharp note of clarity, too. A realisation that if Vladimir came to harm from her blood, she would hurt not solely because she had urged him to partake of it. It was far simpler than that. Whatever the reason it was, by her hand or another, the thought of Vladimir in any sort of distress hurt her soul. It was not about fault. It was not something she could rightly explain, either, only that she did not want to lose him. "Never do I believe you could fail me, dear Vladimir," she said, ducking her head downward to hide the tears that formed in the wake of her fear. "Would that I could protect you also. I promise I shall do so, when I am able. You will let me, yes? Protect you, as you do me?"
  5. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    Concern wove it's way through Améa, her own eyes sharply noting the changes as Vladimir spoke. Her first love had fed from her, and never had such a reaction. He'd said it made him feel strong and alive, yes, but nothing to this level. To see Vladimir so animated was almost perverse. She kept her hand to his cheek, trying to give him something constant, something grounded. She could see his senses twitching at every slight movement, every new sound. An overwhelming kaleidoscope of stimuli when you could truly experience it. "It is most pure life," she said softly. All blood was life. Hers, and that of her family, was so supremely concentrated that it had an existence almost of its own. Alexander knew that well, as did any of their kind who had lived as half. It demanded dominance, supreme control. It fought the very flesh and bones until it won. Is this what would happen to Vladimir? Had she allowed a warmongering parasite into his body? Vladimir, unlike herself, did not create the blood within himself. What would happen, now that he had let it in? "Perhaps, dear Vladimir, I think it is well if you sit down," she stepped aside that he might sit upon the seat she was standing on. Worry crackled in her face and eyes. His grateful thank you only served to twist a knife of developing guilt, and Améa shook her head. "Do not thank me," she said, trying to keep her voice low and calm. It shook with anxiety all the same. "Not until it is known if I require your forgiveness," Améa swallowed, shoulders trembling. "I am sorry, I am sorry---I swear to you, never this reaction did mine first love have. So useless have I been in this way, and thought this I could do---I am sorry," but what to do about it? She didn't know. She could only watch Vladimir experience the world unfiltered with growing concern, feverishly trying to think of a plan.
  6. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    Améa had learned too soon that words were often little more than air between the lips, and resolved at a very young age to speak only what she truly meant and no more. She preferred the honesty of silence to the noise of lies, and a large part of this was for the lies she herself had told. The promises and the love she had given, only to betray every last syllable. Perhaps it had not been lies in the strictest sense, but it had been for nothing. It had not stayed her hand when it ought to, and for that she knew her soul was blackened. Her deepest regret lay at the heart of her silence, a sin for which she could never be forgiven. This was the importance of what she spoke now. These words, not because she felt comfortable or merely willing, but because they had meaning. Because they would be listened to. Vladimir's gentle quiet echoed her own, he would not throw her words to the wind. She flinched only slightly as his fangs sunk into her flesh. An unavoidable jolt of pain, followed by warmth. A happy glow within herself, the comforting buzz of being useful to someone. The delight that shocked his system flowed into hers as well, glad she could supply something that was more than satisfying a craving. Vladimir was enjoying this, and the niggling worry that he would sup guiltily from her faded away. She did not want him to feel bad for his needs. His energy rose and she felt that too, the air charged between them, heavy and electric. Her smile spread further, watching Vladimir pull away and bathe in the flood of sheer life that he had consumed. And then he asked the question. Améa blinked. He did not know? She had assumed that he had been informed at some stage, otherwise why would he have been accepted as her protector? Her brow furrowed. "You do not know?" she asked, reaching out to touch her fingers lightly to his cheek. "We are the sorceraic." as if this was some kind of explanation, and not merely a name that gave nothing more. It had been enough to stop her, bring her out of that fuzzy feeling and consider his reaction more carefully. He was satisfied, yes. He was happy, yes. But was it too much? Her tiny mouth frowned. "Dear Vladimir, does it make you feel well?" she asked cautiously.
  7. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    "Distracted and uncomfortable is far more threat to mine safety if something should occur," Améa pointed out, once again invoking his sense of duty to push him toward looking after his own wants. She didn't feel that she had to. She knew she could, and that was a far more attractive reason to her. Améa herself was a watcher, a protector, a keeper of her kin. Whether she liked to or not, her own sense of duty drove her to ensure the safety and happiness of those around her before seeing to her own. So inbuilt was this, the sense of helplessness that came with her current state, even if for a larger purpose, distressed her. For a moment, here and now, she could help. She needed to help. But it was not help given without due consideration. "Do you not remember, a time when mine love was vampire in full?" she said. The memories still stung, the cause of those lonely nights on the rooftops of Tallygarunga. The nights she had spent listening to Vladmir play to the night air, mourning the loss of a first love who had no sooner opened her to the concept that she deserved love, than took it away. In retrospect, that same hurt had driven her toward Zane. Zane's flaws had been many, yet he had provided her with the security she felt she needed. The certainty that he wanted her. But---none of this was the point. "Regularly did he drink from mine supply, and no harm was done. It is not by flesh and blood that I stand here. Mine wounds will close and blood replenish, until the Will is depleted entire. Only then will She be vanquished from this earth, only when her soul is bereft of any desire to Be. Until this time, She will be eternal." the last she spoke softly, a sacred quote from a text unknown. Bethianna had often recited such works at her bedside when she was a child, putting her to sleep with the gentle rhythm. She'd never really understood what it meant until recently. "I intend for being around a long time yet. To see Nika grow and much more," she added. "You could drain me full dry, dear Vladimir, and mine body would retain a living state. Unwell, perhaps, but determined for life and in fast recovery. You may sate your thirst without fear. This I promise you."
  8. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    "I wish that you also to be comfortable," she replied, as if it were an obvious fact. To her, it was. What sense was there in Vladimir being in this role, if it gave him discomfort? What point was there in forcing him to be in here, when she didn't need to be anyway? "A more private location will allow for us to easily assess any threat," she added, knowing that for himself alone Vladimir would not act. It was sweet, but also damnable. Améa wasn't used to such bare selflessness. Her life tended to revolve around the needs of others. First Adele, then Zane. Now, though it was largely her own fault, Lorelei. Maybe this was what intrigued her so much about Vladimir. The fact that he seemed to need nothing from her, and yet provided everything. Outside, the sky was clear and calm. A perfect night of deep velvet blue, with just enough chill in the air to make her feel at home. Though the flat, dry grass around her was less soothing, she had come to find beauty in it anyway. Once she had believed that only the lush rolling hills and majestic cliffs of her true home were beautiful and this land, boring and dull, was a scar upon the earth. Yet she had seen now, through the burning heat of summer to the dry freeze of winter and back, that there was a stubbornness to it. This was a land that did not break. Ravaged by extremes, burned and then frozen, the muted colours of the bush around them persisted. The dry grass persisted. The flowers came back year upon year, the plants would wither but they would not die. She directed Vladimir to a place along the outside of the building, where park bench-style tables had been set up. This she assumed was mostly for the smokers, who weren't allowed to light up inside. But those were fewer these days, and most were empty. Only a few stragglers sucked down their nicotine before ducking back in with a shiver. They would not be bothered here, she surmised. No sooner had he stopped, she vaulted lightly from his shoulders to stand upon one of the tables. It was enough to bring her height to match his, their eyes level. Her childlike features deadly serious, she extended her arms, tiny hands resting upon his cheeks. She wanted him to understand. She did not offer this lightly. This was something she could do and with almost no risk to her own wellbeing. "Vladimir," she said softly, curious accent rounding off the syllables in an almost musical way. "There is no need that you thirst. You will drink of me."
  9. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    Her feet, rested gently against his chest, could feel the vibrations of his voice. Quiet though it was, it still contained that soothing buzz. To stand apart from Vladimir, one might question if he were at all real, so easily could he give the impression of being merely painted into the background with his minimal movements and expression. Long had Améa watched him, herself so similar in her desire to fade into the edges and make herself known only when it was productive to do so. It felt almost bizarre to know him now, in this way, so solid and real. A physical object firmly planted in reality, the both of them. No longer their own ghosts, at least not to each other. "I see," the information was new to her. She knew what he was, and she knew some few of the details through Jezebel's stories of Viktor -- but (perhaps, thankfully) some details were left out. That Vladimir had a taste for human blood was known to her, but the intensity of his cravings were not. That it might pain and distress him to be without -- that was not something she had considered, given the knowledge that it wasn't necessary for his survival. Her petite, child-like features formed a gentle frown, before her head dipped back to his ear. "You thirst, then?" she said. Not to confirm, but to continue her train of thought. Vladimir had given up so much to take on his role as her protector, had he also given up the source of his cravings? This she could not abide. In her limited state she was unable to help with much, but this---perhaps here she could provide a solution. Be useful for a moment in this frustrating time. Her tiny hand raked fingers through his hair, absently as she considered the options. "Perhaps it is best to move outside, away from the crowd," she said slowly, aware of the ears and eyes around them. "Where the temptation is less, and the night air is cooler?"
  10. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    From here, she saw everything. A sharp and breathtaking moment of clarity, as though she could finally view all the pieces on the board of a game too complex for most to comprehend. At least, watching the guests mill around the pub it felt that way. They moved in deliberate but seemingly-random waves, drawn to each other and then pulled apart as social obligation called them elsewhere. Noting the faces and their destinations, the patterns teased her---promising to reveal themselves, and then disappearing as she tried to grasp the details. "Quite." was her simple reply, one hand steadying herself against his neck---the other rested atop his head. Améa was an experienced rider, she had a strong natural balance. In most ways this was no different than that, except it was. Even the most perfect moment between rider and beast contained that sliver of separation between their forms, even if their hearts and minds were as one they were always two. Upon Vladimir's shoulders Améa felt as steady on his feet as though she controlled them for herself. It was odd to feel this comfortable, this safe. "Are there any here tonight to whom you would talk?" Améa asked, bending slightly so that he could hear her better.
  11. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    She was glad that Vladimir understood the gravity of the situation. Expressing her concerns to Adele had merely served to have them summarily dismissed as if Zane's interference at the unwedding hadn't occurred. Sometimes she was certain that her mother lived in a bubble of denial. It was a theory that explained a lot of Adele's poor choices over the years, but still perplexed Améa. "This is agreeable," she replied to Vladimir with a slight nod. Existing in a child form wasn't entirely unpleasant, nor was it the first time she had done so. At least then, she'd had the ability to age-up as she wished and the inability to do that was frustrating at times. For the most part, strangers underestimated what she took in and tended to ignore her presence unless she made a point of being visible. No one would think twice about a child on Vladimir's shoulders, after all---the triplets loved to be carried in the same way. "Perhaps I shall discover the appeal that does draw Nika so," she added, the undisplayed fondness warming through their connected hands. Though their words and appearances were functional, even cold, in manner, there was a closeness that she could feel. A strength that she felt best when Vladimir was near, and not only because he was dedicated to ensuring her physical safety. Améa had only ever allowed her father to carry her in such a whimsical manner, she had never been one for much physical contact (with the notable exception of Zane), and though she knew that Vladimir could feel from her the subtle changes in her feelings -- this did not bother her. It made her feel strong. And safe.
  12. Don't bury your failures - let them inspire you

    The burden of her role gathering energy had become heavier every day. It pulsed through her blood like an electrical current, humming day and night and making rest near impossible. Not that she needed much in the way of sleep. Améa found herself wandering the nights, longing for the thoughtless void that sleep had once brought to her. She hoped every night that she would get a break from being awake, and every night she was disappointed. Améa knew that Stuart and Mary had definitely noticed, whether they had spoken to the rest of her family about it was another thing---but so long as she appeared to keep her spirits up, and tried to rest at night, there was nothing more to be done. Barely tall enough to see through the pub windows, Vladimir towered over her tiny frame. Her hair had grown fast, and long. her skin fair glowed with the magic she held within. Still, the softer, rounded childlike features did little to ruin her trademark solemn expression. This was a party, and parties were dangerous affairs. So many people in one location, predicting what might happen was so much harder. Améa had been reluctant to attend at all. What if Zane chose to crash this party too? The thought terrified her. Were it not for Lei's situation, and for Nika's love, she might have slipped away in the night to give him the only thing she believed could stop him from harming her family: herself. Would it be so bad? She did love him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop loving him. No. She couldn't. She had to stay here. For Lorelei, but mostly for Nika. She would not abandon her daughter knowingly. She worried too that, were Zane to attend and see Nika properly---he might catch on and then there would be no hell or high water that would stop him from trying to know her. Nothing short of death itself. He had always, from the first moment, wanted children. Only for the fact that her family was here, had Améa come. So many of them that it would be difficult even for Zane to cause harm. That, and Vladimir had assured her that he would not leave her side for the duration of the night. She nodded to his statement, neck craning to see the goings-on around her. One tiny hand reached upward, grasping for Vladimir's fingers and curling tight around what she could hold of his much larger hand. "There is no particular thing for which I wish," she said with a shake of her head. "Perhaps except a seat for seeing around," Améa frowned, her view almost entirely made up of legs and bottoms as they walked around the pub. The view at this height was not ideal.
  13. You're invited to a mocktail party!

    It's a modern day miracle! Matthew Belmont, long-time resident of Narrie and much-loved owner of The Drunken Roo has woken from his five-year coma and finally returned home! To celebrate, The Drunken Roo is hosting a Marvellous Miracle Mocktail Party! All residents of Narrie and surrounds are invited to attend, including students from Tallygarunga. Mocktails will be served all day and into the night, and adults will have the option of ditching the mocktails for proper cocktails. IC Date: August 8th, 2018 Location: The Drunken Roo, Narragyambie Who can attend: Everyone! Dress code: At least a little bit fancy. The OOC Stuff Time for a chill event! Create threads in this forum as you like, for anything related to the Mocktail Party. If your characters move outside of The Drunken Roo, you can create your continuing threads in the regular forums. All topics in this event forum will be moved to The Drunken Roo forum at the completion of the event. Have fun!
  14. Overfull

    Her heart howled with the pain. Améa had been taught from a very young age not to seek comfort, but to push back the flood of emotion. Act on reason, on what was logical, on what was true. Anger had been her weakness, she struggled to push that back, but pain like this was different. The urge to seek help was so easily smothered, tears locked away until a more appropriate time could be found to let them loose. And what would she do with them anyway? She couldn't cry to her mother. She didn't know her father well enough. Or even Jezebel. For all that she was loyal to them, her blood, there was not one among them that she felt she could seek out for comfort. Sadness was a private thing, and Zane had never liked to see her cry either. It was only for the quiet moments of alone time, when she couldn't hold it back anymore. Loose fur stuck to the tears on her cheeks, itching at her skin... but she didn't care. The wind had a chilly bite, the ground was rough, but none of that mattered because she didn't want to move. If she left this moment, it may be gone forever. The comforting buzz of the big cat's purr, the gentle rise and fall of his body as he breathed alongside her. No words came to her lips, but they didn't have to. The pain painted a picture, a slideshow of snapshots from her life. Herself, her father, the violin duets, the balcony, the betrayal, the knife, the blood. The violin as it was now, discarded and dusty. A broken heart with spiderwebs woven between the strings, and an emptiness that echoed where the music used to be.
  15. It is bad still I miss mine husband.

    1. Vladimir Valentin VII

      Vladimir Valentin VII

      Such emotions take time to process... Ergo, no, it is not bad. I know the timeline all too well I'm afraid.

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