Never played SMT. Poked around the wiki and noticed that Alice in Darker than Black utters the line "Die for me" (I looked at the page for Alice in SMT after you mentioned it earlier for the heck of it.) Subtle referencing, perhaps. Just thought I'd mention it.
Name: Salem Jeremic
Age: 17
Gender: M.
Appearance: Standing at a mere 5'3, Salem is not exactly an impressive man and often enough finds himself looking down, instead of up. No chins held high, his steps are careful and controlled, although he does end up bumping into people sometimes. To go along with his stature is a lean, skinny body that gives a rather pathetic impression off, as well as makes his apparent age a bit younger. He's actually quite strong relative to his light body, with a surprising flexibility that wouldn't win him a place in the cheapest circus, but perhaps still captivate the average person.
His heritage would appear to be Asian, but it's rather foggy from there. Theoretically at least 50% Caucasian from his father's blood, potentially moreso due to his mother's questionable family tree, but his outer traits all seem to take after his mother, of mixed Asian blood. His black hair, messy and uneven, with bangs that often fall over his right eye, rarely his left, and even rarer, both, with hair that covers half his neck in the back and just under his ears on the side. His skin is tan enough to show both his genetics and the fact that he's outside a surprising bit for a bookworm. His eyes, when visible, are a dark brown, blending into his pupils if you don't look close.
He has no sense of fashion and doesn't pretend to. His favorite color is blue, but he's also partial to black, and tends to wear a combination of both. Coming into Manhattan with no storage of clothing, perhaps thievery or, in some off act of normalcy in this disaster, a purchase, will change his outfit, but as it stands, his clothing selection is limited to what he brought. A waterproof black trenchcoat, brought just in case, is the outermost layer, the most visible as it hides everything but his pure black skate shoes; worn for durability and having absolutely nothing to do with skateboards. Beneath his trenchcoat is a dark blue pullover hoodie, although thin and lightweight as opposed to the thicker, warmer, more prevalent design. He isn't wearing anything under this because he dislikes the heat. His clothing "style" is just what comes across as most practical to him, a lightweight waterproof garment in case it rains, a lightweight shirt with a hood and a large pocket, and then his last clothing item which are dark blue cargo shorts that extend past his knees. He'll usually carry a large amount of things in his cargos and hoodie, but when wearing the trenchcoat he'll generally transplant them into the inner pockets of that. He is most often seen with at least one book, and at the moment that book is a hardcover The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. His COMP can also be seen silhouetted in his pockets, other items being too small or hidden by these two blockier object to be seen outwardly.
Personality: A soul-less figure with a dull glare, always looking for the most rational answer. From outside he would certainly seem like this; never letting anyone in, rarely speaking, and often quite logical when he chooses to open his mouth. Underneath this façade crafted by sheer lack of interest is an imaginative spirit desperate for adventure; for the times of thousands of years ago where the world was unknown and full of infinitely varied traditions, secrets, and wars. Having long since abandoned the fairytales of being whisked away by Peter Pan or being washed away to Atlantis, he simply floats through life, taking the path of least resistance. His dreams reduced to lines and curves.
Contrary to his Apathetic aloofness, he is surprisingly empathetic, and the people who surround him will often only notice that he isn't a heartless machine when they're hurt in some form or another. Still, as much as he did honestly care about other people, he found socialization to be horribly overrated, preferring the characters in the stories he'd read, in the games he played, or that he'd created himself than real people. Real people, at his age and when he was younger, were far too caught up in things that he detested. Grades, which he drew back to his own life as being sheerly for the purpose of impressing someone, or just vanity of some sort, or the endless bullies that persevered through the years, that he thought might fade away with time but never seemed to. Perhaps he might help them, but it wouldn't change a thing between them, he'd retreat into his shell, and they'd return to whichever clique would reaccept them now that they were composed. It was all horribly fake. Rather curious about if people were more expressive when older, all he's been met with so far are people who've given up simple pleasures for working, raising kids, trying to contribute to the world. Noble, perhaps, but obscenely boring. Still, he has his share of hiding who he is; as time passes, he still cannot help but believe quietly in magic, or the spirit of adventure. Faintly aware but rejecting the fear, danger, and death that certainly haunts such fantastical ideas. He brushes this hidden side of himself off, for the most part, and quietly and resolutely building his own worlds is his way of expressing himself, and he doesn't hide it from anyone that he finds it far more important than conventional things, like self-image, education, athleticism, or the "American Dream" or Nuclear Family that his father prattled about at times.
Raised by a conservative father and an Asian mother, one might expect him to be more straight-laced, conservative as well, more serious. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. He was allowed to raise himself with what money, housing, food, siblings that they gave him, and he certainly enjoys the freedom he's been endowed with. He does take it for granted, however, fully unaware of what it's like to lack it. Wholly disagreeing with his father's ideals, it's almost unthinkable to him that others don't experience his freedom, held down by chains of poverty, discrimination, meaningless rules meant to protect them from empty threats. While he's never been one to go out and date or have sex or whatever, if he wanted to he could have, and even without those interests he's managed to find his own reasons to be out late and come back scotch-free. You'd think a man would enforce the beliefs of his politics to his children, but as fate had it, he was free as a bird to fly across the night, although the older kids told him his parents were quite strict before he was born, they seemed to have given up when they were outnumbered.. Such is how he came to be in Manhattan that fateful day, some money and time that he knew he could get away with was all he required to go north three states and take a bit of a break and see the art, the history, the culture, the museums.
Thrust suddenly into a world of confusion, military technology, rampant rumors of demons, and the like, Salem of course dismissed the more supernatural elements, but it flared his curiosity. Soon enough he came across enough confirmation that he, for once, lost his composure. Overwhelmed by the thrill of magic, adventure, and secrets that suddenly made him emotive and excited, and the fear that he'd rejected so far, figuring he'd never have to deal with it...
History: Salem was born in Virginia, his father a young congressman who was always busy doing one thing or another in nearby D.C. or going around helping his constituents in some casework or somesuch. Boring, average political stuff. His mother was a biologist who did research with the National Institute of Health, and apparently was involved in a decent bit of biology herself, having a grand total of 6 kids, 4 boys and 2 girls. Salem was a middle child and rather liked being away from the spotlight, or, as he saw it, the searchlight. While his oldest siblings and youngest siblings all vied for attention from two busy parents who were quite convinced that their research or politicking would change the face of the world, he sat quietly on the sideline, equal parts bemused and annoyed by the spectacle. He spent his time immersed in various worlds, whether it was from extensive videogaming or hours of reading. He was calm and if he tried he probably could have pulled off the straight As that his siblings, intent on being impressive, worked so hard at without dedicating much time to it, but it didn't particularly interest him, and the sheer effort they put into it turned him off from even trying.
Goal-less and really just focused on keeping himself amused, he drew and wrote; avoiding such labor intensive things as sports and schoolwork, things he would find himself able to do if he tried. Creating his own worlds, imagery of letters or of lines, was casual and quiet. It went at whichever pace he set it at.
He was far too quiet and distanced to be approachable. He picked up some friends by circumstance; boredom or coincidence bringing him to it. His life, all in all, was simple, boring, and absolutely horrid for a creative and lonely soul such as himself. Dimly aware that he had a good life and a bright future if he'd just invest in it, he secretly longed to be involved in something exciting, to actually have to work for something rather than being handed it on a silver platter.
Who knew that his desire for adventure would be quenched on a quiet trip to visit, of all places, some museums? Deciding for no reason other than that he could get away with it, he planned a trip to New York City to see the museums. A cheap bus ticket later he was caught off guard entirely when the lockdown occurred.
- Demon -
I don't play or watch SMT so picking a demon was a crapshoot, and after I picked something that seemed notstrong I looked up the original lore and did it based on that.
Race: Heqet
Appearance: As an Egyptian goddess, she has two forms. One being a simple, green, normal-sized frog, and the other an elegant, slimbodied woman clad in a simple dress of white linen that loosens at the upper thighs and further at the knees to make room for some mobility, with a white shawl atop the sleeveless garment. Simple leather sandals protect the soles of her feet. The only thing off about her is the fact that her head is a frog's, sitting quite comfortable on the shoulders of a human. She stands at about 5'10
Abilities: Her mythos involves breathing life and governing water, and her powers reflect this in her abilities to heal wounds and mitigate or outright block damage. Her healing is still quite slow and limited, particularly on humans, and while she is known for resurrection she can not actually bring a human back from a grave wound, perhaps a powerful deity like Horus, and even then not by herself. Her powers can create water, however it dissipates after a half minute, leading her to prefer manipulating an existing source of water. Her abilities are purely defensive. She can create shields of pressured water, hot, obscuring steam clouds, or floors of ice to bind one's feet or just make it difficult to traverse.