"Your body is a temple, and you are its god. Are you pleased by its design? Every loose tapestry thread and flaw in the stone is sacred. If you are human, you have only one temple, and you will dwell in its halls and speak from its sanctum until the day your spirit leaves it. If you are not human—if you are older and greater and far more wicked—then your temple is infinite, a labyrinth of holy design, changing like the ocean and reborn like the stars." — nikignik ; hello from the hallowoods, episode 4
inspired by: NIMONA from NIMONA. // with hints of: shawn spencer from psych. clementine maidstone from hello from the hallowoods. lup tacco from the adventure zone: balance. percy reed from hello from the hallowoods. aubrey little from the adventure zone amnesty. loki from dogma (1999).
as well as:
— the bright salmon-pink that streaks a late-evening sunset.
— the quiet emotional intensity of the question yaretzi asks polly in episode 29 of Hello From The Hallowoods: “were you never just a person, apollyon? did you not get to make a choice?”
— sparklers on a warm july evening.
— the righteous anger of a charming young man capable of being terrible.
— "je suis farouche."
— the bright colored lights of a carnival/county fair.
— the feeling of wet grass beneath bare feet.
— the song "masochist" by joe iconis.
full name. nimona boldheart. / faceclaim. liv hewson. / pronouns. they/them. / dob. may 12th. / zodiac. taurus. / occupation. student. / sexual orientation. demiromantic / temperament. somewhere between choleric and sangine. / mbti. esfp / alignment. chaotic neutral. / enneagram. the challenger. / emojis. (🐉, 🩷, 🤘).
okay so !! summarizing is Not my strongsuit but here we go hjsdk
present !!
nimona moved to elias with ballister and ambrosius to start anew - to have a chance at a life that is safe and stable; two things they've never really known before. they're still trying to settle into that safety/stability without feeling a cold stab of dread at the nape of their neck when they think about it too hard. they still haven't quite gotten to the point where they can shake the feeling of oh this is too good to be true.
while a classroom setting isn't their favorite place to spend a good chunk of their day/week, nimona figured (with a little convincing from ballister) that it would be a good idea to at least see what a higher education could offer them. they do wanna look into getting a proper job, though - would be nice not to have a little extra cash in their pocket.
in the meantime, they try to keep themself busy with community projects. it helps to ease a little bit of the nagging fear that things will eventually turn against them - if you help the community, the community likes you, the community will not try to stab you with a sword. pretty sound logic. but also they understand how important it is to take care of the people around you and it genuinely makes them feel good.
they like to sketch as a creative outlet. they don't know much about fancy art supplies and at this point they're too afraid to ask but they have a lil collection of mismatched markers and pencils and pens and whatnot that they like to mess around with.
they're always Somewhere doing Something so their schedule varies but you can often find them chilling at the botanical garden when they're not busy or at the bar on weekends !
past !!
nimona has always loved who they are. being a shapeshifter hasn't always been easy but gods, is it freeing. they could never contain themself for one form for too long - it's stuffy and itchy and . wrong.
it was an incredibly lonely way to grow up, though. the creatures of the forest, no matter how social with each other, wanted nothing to do with nimona and their pinkness.
the only friendship they did have as a child ended in tragedy, painting nimona as a monster and turning their friend against them.
the years between the incident with gloreth and meeting ballister were spent yearning for a glimpse of that sort of comfortable warmth again.
but being villainized and hunted only added to nimona's growing discomfort and disdain. they'd been shunned before but never on a scale quite like this. the line from nimona's bio "When you are hunted for what you are, rebellion becomes survival." sums things up pretty well, i think.
rebelling in small ways and big ones alike, nimona found a friend within chaos; it became as much a part of them as their shapeshifting is.
this feels like a good place to say "and then they met ballister and the rest is history" so-
future !!
i don't really know what the future holds for nimona - there are so many possibilities. they have a lot of potential.
i'd like to see them work on their art a little bit maybe? learn a bit more about different mediums and whatnot. they use their art for venting purposes sometimes but most of the times it's just silly little comics or sketches they find fun. they could totally be a kid's book illustrator someday - that would be a fun career path for them to try maybe.
i would love to see nimona (eventually) be able to let their guard down a bit; let themself bask in the love and the life that they've earned for themself here in elias without being afraid that it's all going to crash down around them soon. i know they'll get better with it the longer they're Here but idk if that'll ever fully go away.
wanted connections !!
aside from the obvious Canonical Connections (nimona's gay dads) -
friends !! give them friends <3
art friends !! people who they can parallel play with - both of them sketching/drawing/whatever while just chilling in each others' presence. maybe they go to the art museum every now and then or chill at the cafe.
"unfortunate acquaintances" - nimona can be A Lot sometimes and maybe your muse thinks so too but also . doesn't exactly Hate Them? all i can think of to sum up the dynamic i'm picturing in my head is eddie kaspbrak and richie tozier. and nimona is richie hjsdsk
drinking buddies / party friends !! - what it says on the tin !! nimona likes to have Fun on the weekends, hang out at the gay bar or go out on the town and if your muse does too maybe they can be buddies ! :3
My Brother In Chaos - chaotic chaotic. the taako to their lup. someone to just be a menace to society with. let them be bastards together !!
okie i think . i got everything? if not, i will update/add more to this later but for now..... that is all. uwu
⸻🍂 WILLOW STOOD INSIDE THE ELIAS MUSEUM OF History &. Art. There heart pounded in there chest with every passing second.
The museum itself hummed with the faint-echoes of others footsteps &. conversations. As warm light poured in through the tall windows illuminating the paintings &. sculptures ⸻ casting gradual-soft shadows onto the marble floor. While this was there 7th visit ⸻ each time more hopeful then the last there filter-films capture what was hidden &. unexplained from within. They braced there ' Rollieflord-XZ ' an camera-prototype they commissioned with both there hands. It was not an normal looking camera ⸻ exactly. This camera-prototype looked like 3 different ideas that had been taken apart ⸻ argued with ⸻ &. rebuilt into commission by an certain someone with stubborn roots ⸻ mostly Rollieflex ⸻ part Rolliecord ⸻ &. Chuzhaos inner-digital-components.
While this camera-prototype felt heavy in there hands ⸻ an lifeline in an world that had felt it was spinning out of there own control ⸻ with weighted expectations. As there mind was miles away ⸻ tangled ⸻ &. stubbermined-locked. While for 3-months straight ⸻ of Cassian chasing some possibility out beyond the edge of reason ⸻ left without an word ⸻ ghosted ⸻ &. returned with an change in them: As if they had brought back an shadow of another self ⸻ coming back with glittering-dust &. symbols that left more questions than answers. While they rotated an metal-crank clockwise ⸻ until the filter-frame counter showed ‘ 0 ┊ 0riginal ( Normal ) ’ ⸻ looking down at the viewfinder ⸻ being there to check the film-filters they had made themselves as trail &. error had become its own language.
As they weren’t there to look at paintings ⸻ but past them. In the kind of way they were looking for what shouldn't be there through the film-filters they created. But an presence had arrived without an sound ⸻ as there proximity being subjugated &. compromised without touching!!! While an still-jolt of surprise stunned them as they snap-shut the viewfinder. As if what they had in there hands were contraband ⸻ getting caught doing something wrong ⸻ for an awful moment they felt like they were 12-years-old ⸻ because there reflex showed signs regardless of them not doing anything wrong to begin with. While the strangers question . . . made there smokey-quartzs behind glasses squint at the paintings ⸻ needing an moment to re-calibrate.
As they blinked &. gave the question some thought ⸻ but didn't realize how . . . strange the question really was. “ It . . . must be agonizing ⸻ ” while they felt an playfulness “ ⸻ I mean ⸻ the food must taste terrible in paintings. ” Only to be struck with wishing they honestly hadn't been asked. As the question turned to an different question entirely ⸻ while it felt like Emperor Belos's hands closing around there throat. Having an portrait . . . locked in there mind. Locked in memory enough that the golden-frame stopped being beautiful &. started to become an cage. “ . . . lonely. Being stuck . . . in an moment while people just keep . . . walking ⸻ ” being reminded the way The Golden Guard carried the weight of Emperor Belos message ⸻ the titan's will ⸻ in an body that was covered in scars no one saw &. still growing.
&. growing up they had believed in The Golden Guard ⸻ but not once . . . ever wondering whether ⸻ The Golden Guard ⸻ was ever tired ⸻ frightened ⸻ or if any of it was what they wanted ⸻ as they believed it because The Golden Guard believed in the cause. While they didn't realize there was someone ⸻ underneath The Golden Guard worth asking. As there was ⸻ Hunter. Hunter who had scars &. bad sleeping habits &. to much courage shoved into an golden-heart that was never given room to be young. While how much of Hunter could have stayed in that golden-cage. How easily . . . the person they know now could have never existed at all if they never had met them. “ ⸻ past. Everyone deciding what there worth means but never knowing who they really were behind the painted-expression. ”
“ Only to leave. Leave them when they're done admiring ⸻ glorifying the moment there frozen-in-frame for justifying the means &. the cause ⸻ leaving them in an abusive-cycle ⸻ an eternal loop locked in . . . You know I'm seriously going to have some strange nightmares after this. ” Because that was going to spiral in there mind for an month ⸻ as they might not be able to physically face Hunter for an while. As they thought they needed an distraction from Cassian but not that KIND of distraction. “ Why in the titans name did you think to ask that kind of question? ”
the sound of a camera shutter jolted nimona's attention from the painting in front of them to the stranger beside them, their surprised gaze meeting the other's. their focus dropped to the camera in the other person's hands and they blinked a few times, eyes roving over the odd black machine. "woah, is that a camera...?" they asked, tilting their head to one side like a curious cat. "it looks funky." and then, as though they'd just realized in that brief moment after speaking that funky might be taken as an insult, their gaze flicked up to the person holding it. "like, in a cool way."
a smile quirked the corners of nimona's mouth upward as the stranger made a comment about the food tasting terrible in paintings, the sharp tips of their fangs slightly visible. "d'you think the painting people would notice that the food tastes bad, though?" they mused. "since it's the only kind of food they've most likely ever eaten, i mean." they gave a soft hum at the thought, gaze wandering back over to the painting they'd been staring at before. "you're right, though - i think to us it would just taste like old paint."
the smile on nimona's face faltered as the word lonely was spoken; the syllables hanging heavy in the air. they definitely weren't a stranger to loneliness, though they'd be reluctant to admit it. they grimaced as they felt the tone of the conversation shift. “...i never really thought of it from that perspective before.” they scratched at the back of their neck. "watching the world pass by you; looking at you but never really seeing you..." their voice was soft but the words felt rough on their tongue nonetheless.
nimona's hand slipped from the back of their neck to rest on their shoulder and they gave it a squeeze to ground themself; to keep their thoughts from spiraling. things are different now. things are good now. things are safe now. they thought to themself, the other's words having brought back to the surface feelings and thoughts that nimona'd been trying to tamp down and snuff out since they'd moved to elias with ballister and ambrosius. not that said thoughts were ever too far from their mind; always lurking in the background, waiting to strike them down at a moment's notice.
the words that the camera-wielder spoke seemed personal; like they'd been speaking from experience. maybe that was why their words felt so real - sharp, like daggers; making nimona's chest ache.
nimona blinked as they were asked why they thought to ask that question. their eyes flicked back to the camera-wilder. did they look as much like a trapped animal as they felt? gods they hoped not, that would be way too much vulnerability for a first time meeting.
they winced at the mention of strange nightmares, huffing out a soft "yeah, you and me both."
the toe of their sneaker scuffed against the floor with a squeak as they awkwardly kicked at the linoleum. "i thought to ask it 'cause i've been making up random paint peoples' inner monologues for half an afternoon and wanted to get someone else's opinion on it, that's all." they shrugged.
violet saw them slowly coming in from her peripheral vision and she wondered at what point she should react. maybe they were just trying to get a better angle at the painting? she'd been staring at this one for longer than she intended, but it seemed like every time she thought she could tear herself away, something caught her eye.
a new little detail. the brushstrokes on a hat. the way a mouth was tilted up or down — were they smiling or frowning? what reason did they have for doing so?
when a question was finally thrown out there, she had to smile.
"not...really. i think about whoever made it. why they decided to paint them like that. or...how long it took for them to decide to paint it like that," she whispered, not wanting to break the trance of the painting. her eyes flickered towards the firey-haired stranger. "are you an artist?"
"mm, that's understandable." nimona said with a hum. "i guess i've never really thought as much about the artist," they admitted, nose scrunching up a little. "which seems a little mean now that i think about it, seeing as the people in the paintings wouldn't exist without their metaphorical gods." they said, lifting a hand to mime a few fanciful brush strokes on metaphorical gods. "i usually think more about the people they painted, the colors they used... that sort of thing. like... did the person in the painting really exist? and if they did, did they really look like that or are we just seeing the artist's personal interpretation of them? there's only so much you can get down on paper, no matter how talented you are."
they paused a moment before, "and, like, obviously i think about what the people in the paintings are thinking and whether their souls are trapped forever within the gloopy, paint-y, probably oil-based prison their brush-wielding creators unwittingly - or wittingly! who knows? - sealed them inside of. like that dorian gray guy."
nimona hesitated as she asked them if they were an artist, gaze shifting from the painting they'd been staring at to the girl beside them. they'd never really considered themself an artist; the word felt a little to serious for the colorful doodles that filled their sketchbook. "i don't make anything close to museum-level stuff and i don't plan on doing anything career-worthy but i've been known to dabble in sketching and other drawing-based activities in my free time... you?"
ever since her museum adventure with chess, luz had found herself returning there more frequently. she had been to the magical history section enough that she could recite what the plaques said in her sleep. in her own very luz way, she believed being there would help her understand magic more. perhaps even have a bit of the magic rub off on her.
she decided to give the magic a break and explore other avenues. luz had only visited the art museum a handful of times. it felt like the perfect place to spend her afternoon. the witch walked the halls, a thoughtful look on her features as she took every piece in. she would always be amazed that two hands could create such beautiful pieces. humans could be magical in their own sense without having special abilities. she stopped in front of a particular piece, eyeing it for a moment. a presence was felt beside her. luz turned to smile at the stranger. "sometimes." she replied. "i think she's thinking of taking a nap right about now." she pointed to the painting where the woman's face looked somewhere between dreamy and exhausted.
nimona listened as the girl beside them answered their question. their gaze shifted to the painting that she was pointing to, taking in the somewhat-dreamy look on the painted woman's face and giving a nod of acknowledgement. "or maybe she's daydreaming about being able to move again after, like, twenty hours of sitting still for the painter guy." they made a face at the thought, nose scrunching up in a sort-of grimace; sharp teeth poking out. the thought of sitting still that long; of being stared at; studied - artistically or otherwise - made their skin crawl. "paying a dude a bajillion bucks to stare at you for hours while you sit reeeeally still sounds like a nightmare scam but hey! it worked for them and the end result is usually really nice to look at, so. win-win, i guess." they shrugged.
it was the quiet hours of midnight when grim stood outside of the cemetary. it had become a habit of sorts since he arrived in elias. he never hovered around cemeteries before this, call him sentimental he didn't want to risk meeting any grieving family members or friends of the deceased.
but right now? he felt the pull to go here... maybe to atone for what he had been doing for hades.
the path was illuminated by the light from his scythe, which he set down for a moment to surveil the area. "alright," he warned sharply when he felt the presence of another. "step back from the scythe. it's not your property."
nimona couldn't get back to sleep. they'd been jolted awake by a less-than-pleasant dream and, despite their best efforts, had spent the better part of the last hour tossing and turning... so they did the only thing they could think to do: they snuck out of the house to take a walk.
they technically didn't have to sneak. they were a fully grown adult, after all - they could go on walks late at night if they so chose. but it was late and they did owe ballister and ambrosius the basic decency of not making loud noises when the two of them were probably trying to sleep.
the fresh air felt good - it always did - and they took a deep breath of it as they wandered down side streets with no destination in mind, letting their feet guide them wherever.
just as they'd decided they'd wandered enough and should probably mosey their way back home, something caught their eye - a light from the cemetery, illuminating the shape of a person.
they stopped in their tracks, staring for a moment. the smart thing for them to've done would be to ignore it. to pretend they never saw a person standing in an eerie light in front of the cemetery in the middle of the night and go home. curiosity killed the cat, after all.
yeah, but satisfaction brought him back. argued the metaphorical devil on their shoulder.
nimona exhaled a soft sigh, rolling their shoulders before shifting into the form of an ermine - fuchsia in color, of course, but an ermine nonetheless. small and nimble, they scurried closer to the mysterious person and the odd glowing light.
a scythe? that was the source of the light? their little mustelid head tilted to one side, curious eyes following the curve of the blade.
just as they leaned in to give the sharp metal a curious sniff the man spoke up, startling them out of their fuchsia fur. they jumped, skittering away from the scythe and the man both; their noodle body wriggling all over itself in a manner that could only be described as 'cartoonishly comical'.
a soft "oof" left nimona's lips as they landed on their, now very human, rear. "if it's any consolation, i wasn't gonna touch it."
milo was a nice boss, too nice sometimes that agnes couldn't help but feel guilty that she had time roaming the museum. the only way agnes could justify this was by telling herself that she was actually making sure people respected the artefacts and paintings and sculptures—making sure they're treating the museum as a sacred ground.
however, agnes still got absorbed into the pieces she claimed she was guarding. she stared at them too long, think about them too long. the museum does that to a person.
she heard the person speaking next to her and agnes turned slowly, pondering upon the question. "the people in the paintings? not the people who made the paintings?" agnes clarified. she hummed as considered her answer. "sometimes. in my line of work, what we do is fill in the blanks." just because she was an assistant, it didn't mean her true passion of journalism should be left behind. "we think about stories and about people." a soft chuckle.
"sorry, that's a roundabout way to answer your question. but yes, i do wonder what they're thinking. in this one, i wonder if they're thinking about the sunny weather and the food and the company. what do you think?"
nimona's gaze shifted from the painting to the girl standing next to them as she asked them clarifying questions. they nodded their head before returning their gaze to the picture before them. "yeah. the people in the paintings." they affirmed. they gave a soft hum as she answered, listening while their eyes continued to flick from painted person to painted person. "fill in the blanks?" they asked, head tilting slightly to one side. they let their gaze land on her again. "that sounds like an interesting job, for sure. are you a detective or something?"
a soft smile curved the corners of nimona's mouth and they shook their head at her apology. "nah, you're good. sometimes you gotta do a little roundabout thinking to get to your point; i get it. happens to me sometimes, too." they gave a soft hum as the question turned back to them, their eyes narrowing as they took in the painting once more. "i think it depends on the people and the painting, but..." they began, narrowing their eyes at the people in the painting. "i think these two are probably thinking about what they're gonna have for dinner."
Donnie had not intended to spend his afternoon in an art museum. He also hadn’t intended to spend twenty minutes staring at the same painting trying to determine whether the artist was making a statement about grief or just really committed to painting clouds dramatically. He wasn't really an art guy but he'd learned from Mikey to appreciate it at least. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as he tilted his head slightly toward the canvas. The museum was quiet in that specific oppressive way museums always were until someone spoke. He glanced sideways just enough to acknowledge them before looking back toward the painting.
“Constantly,” he answered without hesitation. “Which is probably concerning, psychologically.” His gaze drifted toward one of the painted figures near the edge of the canvas. “That guy specifically,” Donnie continued thoughtfully, pointing vaguely at the painting, “looks like he’s realizing in real time that history will remember him exclusively as ‘man standing near horse.’ Which honestly? Brutal.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward faintly. “I think people forget portraits used to be weirdly intimate.” His tone shifted into something more focused now. “Like, someone sat there long enough for another person to memorize their face. That’s kind of terrifying if you think about it too hard.”
nimona's nose crinkled as the guy beside them made a comment about his constant curiosity being psychologically concerning. they shook their head. "nah. there's nothing wrong with being curious and creative. anyone who says otherwise is boring and you really shouldn't listen to boring people. in my personal experience, it never ends well."
nimona's gaze followed the man's vague pointing gesture, a snicker slipping past their lips as they honed in on man standing near horse. he really did have a rather interesting look on his face - something between vague surprise and self-awareness. “eugh, poor dude. i guess there are worse things to be painted as for eternity." they said, lifting their hand to gesture to an animal in the background - a cat...pig? ...dog, maybe?
nimona grimaced as he made mention of how intimate portraits used to be. "eugh," they groaned, "the mortifying ordeal of being perceived. absolutely disgusting." they huffed, sticking out their tongue at the thought. "between that and sitting still in the same position for hours... yeah, no thanks." they sighed, shoulders lifting slightly in a vague shrugging gesture. "guess it's good that people didn't mind it so much back then, though. otherwise we wouldn't have fancy paintings of old rich people."
nimona had planned on spending their afternoon sketching in the botanical gardens - the weather was perfect for it, sunny and warm with the slightest breeze. they'd tossed their sketchbook into their messenger bag with a handful of various art supplies - pens, markers, pencils of different colors - and set out after lunch. unfortunately things don't always go to plan and after an hour and change of mostly erasing things, they'd given up their own artistic endeavors in favor of observing the artistic endeavors of others... which is how they found themself here, at the art museum.
they stood facing one of the paintings, their eyes flitting from object to person to landscape. a soft hum left their lips and they leaned sideways a little - just enough to sliiiightly invade the personal space of the person standing closest to them; enough to catch their attention without touching them. "do you ever wonder what they're thinking?" nimona asked, eyes still focused on the painting in front of them. "the people in the paintings, i mean."
