THE COLD OF YOU

severed chimera. you look like a winter night. i could sleep inside the cold of you.

[severedchimera]

KENNA SOWANDE // SEVERED CHIMERA

age: 27 gender: nonbinary with they/them pronouns sexuality: pansexual loyalty: the seiwa emperor faceclaim: mayowa nicholas

LINKS

• biography • application • open/taken connections • headcanons

[aneverendinglovestory]

Mayowa Nicholas

[severedchimera]

pcperxian​:

date : November 13th, Friday, 2180. time : evening, after the sirens location : trapped in the pub with : @severedchimera​

This was the last thing he needed; being trapped with so many people, so many customers, while his cat was home alone - who knows how long will it be before the blasted voice lets them go. Probably once the monster’s hunt down - or killed. He wondered if the latter option might be the better one for the creature in question - he knew well enough what the Emperor’s mercy meant ; he was still paying for it. That dream he once had, of being someone while simultaneously being no one had flown out the window like a butterfly - only to be trapped by a bloody menace, wings utterly ruined in the Other’s hands.

That was alright - he could keep himself deluded that, at least, he had work and a steady income when so many had not have been so… fortunate. Of course, the less fortunate ones did not have their families lives dangling over their heads like a threat and a taunt BI or so he thought. in fact, he didn’t really find himself caring enough to ask just how many others are, or have been, in his exact same situation. ). He kept his head down, sitting in the booth, blissfully alone with his thoughts and his papers. The pro-empire propaganda now seemed both tasteless and taunting, but once he found himself in a lack of choice, he found that lying, and pretending to comply, was the safest option - the path of least resistance meant his parents keep their heads.

For now.

He looked up from his work, dissatisfied as always, in time to see a familiar face stroll in - or barge in, depending on the point of view. Xian had been fairly acquainted with them - and he knew all about their twin and the captivity, and their stories have been… fascinatingly similar. He doesn’t really trust them - the only thing he trust is his fear of incompetence, fear of failure, and his cat.

But, Xian’s eyes locked with Kenna’s and he subtly inclined his head, diverting their attention from the entrance. A wordless invitation, should they choose to accept it - he always found himself enjoying the quiet conversations he had with them; they were a kindred soul, but he wondered if their minds had thought the same, treasonous things as well.

What do years of obedience do to a lonely child? Each heavy footstep made no echo as they met the concrete. The Emperor’s cold eyes as he disapproved of their progress. The cruel lash of the tongue, each threat against their sister opening a thousand wounds anew. The burden fell heavy on the backs of those who had nowhere else to go but forward. If Kenna were to slip out from beneath the Emperor’s thumb, they imagined not where they would run to but where the stone would fall. It would fall to Tanna to pay for their freedom. It would fall to Kenna to win Tanna’s freedom back.

What do years of obedience do to a lonely child? Kenna walked into the club with the confidence of a pet well-kept, and a prisoner well-fed. It turned them into a machine, by all appearances. They sensed it in the eyes of those who recognized them. It turned them into a pawn, but at least a feared one. Perhaps even a revered one, for those who believed Kenna to be a savior. Deliverer of all Night Monsters.

They didn’t see Kenna as a traitor, and perhaps that too, was merely a trick of the light. If Kenna does not see themself as a Night Monster (for they barely see themself as an individual without Tanna to anchor them), then neither do the people of Ilbern.

And what of Xian? There was a cloud forever lingering at the corner of his eyes. A thought, too dangerous to allow seen, and yet — one familiar to Kenna. One they thought they could guess, if a blade were pressed to Tanna’s throat. Without a word, Xian beckoned for Kenna. It was the manner in which he called for them that moved Kenna to oblige, gliding forward like a thread is attached to her ankle and it tugs them forward.

It was not an order — it was, rather, a question. An invitation.

Pawns and pets knew that to be offered anything is a gift of itself.

Rather than join them in the booth, Kenna stood before it as if to leave at any moment. “Xian,” they said, not unkindly. Still, it would take a nuanced ear to grasp how gently their apathy was. “Have you seen anything suspicious?” They grasp for the obvious, guaranteeing an alibi before the Emperor if he asks about their little stop. “The sirens…” They may have scared the Night Monster from talking at all, if anyone knew about their ability. “They’re a distraction to your work. You should go home.”

[soracities]

A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one’s work and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart.

Albert Camus, The Plague (trans. Justin O’Brien)

[severedchimera]

november 13, 2081 at million’s square. OPEN TO ALL.

The dark is thick and traitorous, and comforting all the while. In the same way that they feel the core of them grow still in the center of chaos, the same way that their gut guides each step forward as if in a trance, Kenna becomes the hunt. The night magnifies the senses, and every nerve ending hums with life. They know this dance. They know it well, and they also know in the marrow of their bones that there is more than one Night Monster out tonight.

Guilt is a funny thing. You can cut it to pieces, hold each shard to the light to see how it ticks and it will always elude you. There is no rhyme nor reason to what makes the heart shudder; Kenna knows. They have seen horrible things, sights that can make the human soul shrivel up and fall to the wind. For Kenna, it is all matter of fact. Blood is just blood, and the screams of the captured cannot compare to the silence of their sister.

Sliding in and out through Million’s Square, Kenna’s focus is razor-sharp. They’ve ventured further away from Ujin — if only to be spared the rot of him, which they still find repulsive. He is only a stone’s throw behind them, but even that is enough. They find pleasure in small victories, and this surely counts.

A heartbeat later, they’re grateful Ujin is behind. He always finds a way to ruin this part: the glorious blip of a moment when Kenna, at last, beholds their target. Their lips part to utter a prayer, the same one they cast each time a Night Monster falls into their lap: be spared as Tanna was not.

They step forth from the shadows and creep forward, ready to claim their mark.

[nightmonstersrpg]

NAME : Kenna Sowande

AGE : 27

PRONOUNS : They/Them

LOYALTY : The Seiwa Emperor

FC : Hannah John-Kamen

ROLE & MARK : Severed Chimera

✗ SNAPSHOT ┅

An unwilling pawn with little choice but to dutifully follow the orders of the Emperor. It’s impossible to forsake her sister whose life was tied to her results. She serves as the prime huntress of Night Monsters with the rare ability to sense them in order to mimic their own ability. Her skill is dangerous but not impossible to subvert as she’s not able to pinpoint targets with clarity and only mimics one ability at a time. Only her sister can prevent this and all Night Monster abilities with her own painful nullifying songs.

✗ BIOGRAPHY┅

TW: death, imprisonment 

From the very womb, you were never wholly yourself. You were always one half of a whole. Your dearest sister, your best friend - the moon to your star. Hand in hand, you were inseparable. Your grandmother told you that you were brought into existence with the greatest luck, you were each other’s companion. Your lives ticked together with every beating second, intertwined like the roots of a tree. There was no one else you could trust, no one else you could call your own family. And you entrusted in those beliefs; you need no one else. Despite your identical appearances, it was your distinctive character that shaped your differences. Where you enjoyed the quietness of solitude, your sister relished in impish heedlessness. But in her company you never minded, always willing to adjust and yield so long as the glow remained upon her sun kissed cheeks. 

When your grandmother passed, you and your sister were passed from one family to another. Some kind, some indifferent. It wasn’t until you found your last home did you face a fate worse than death. You knew from the moment your foot crossed thresh holds that these people were inflicted with greed. In their sickening saccharine voices they coaxed you to address them with forced endearment. You saw through the lies. We are your family, your aunt and uncle children dearest. You were always observant, keen to watch and deduce the ugliness of their hearts and poisoned minds. But your sister was kinder, more forgiving. She believed in their false goodwill. In the shine of her eyes you held her cheek, forehead to forehead as you decided to comply. You knew she only wished for bliss and happiness, thus your mistrust slowly eroded away - all for the sake of your sister’s comfort. A haunting regret that would follow you like the a shackled convict. You’d never forgive them nor yourself for allowing the emperor to rip away your hand from your most beloved treasure. When you returned on your own you felt hollow, the emptiness was a foreign feeling, the very sensation fed and nurtured your hatred. You vowed vengeance. 

Unwillingly you became a sharpened weapon. For your sister’s protection and freedom you bowed your head to the ruler of a broken kingdom. Where your aunt and uncle were rewarded for their gifts, you seethed in the shadows, fingers clenched as visions of violence flashed before your eyes. The ringing of your ears were loud and the beating of your own heart felt like they were fading - you walked the earth as if you were already dead. Shaped to become the emperor’s chess piece, you moved against your will. Your walls were thicker than steel itself, your ruthlessness growing to become decisive and swift. It was only in the presence of your sister did the chains melt away. You cried for her, held her as she remained a guarded prisoner. The clarity in her eyes were clouded, her voice no longer bright and filled with melodic song as she stood in silence. Everything she had felt once with passion became yours - you took upon her anger, her rage. You promised her that one day you would save her and then together you could escape the abyss hand in hand. You would reclaim her life at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing thousands more. 

✗ SOCIAL NETWORK┅ 

Demon Cat: If the devil had a face, you’d like to think it was his. His wickedness and taste for madness was a perfect match to the Emperor. While you’re less than pleased to be working alongside him, you know better than lose your rationale. You maintain your icy armor with utmost dignity, ignoring his taunts and provocations to rouse your temper. You can see the vicious desires in his eyes to make you join his brutish rank. Yet you hold onto your integrity with stubborn defiance. Everything about him was detestable. For the longest time, you had only one name on your secret hit list. But after his acquaintance, you’re confident in adding him as the second. Whatever he was, you knew it wasn’t human and you’d have to have lost your mind to spare him an ounce of amusement contemplating otherwise. You will never be like him. To be anything remotely like the devil was an insult worse than death. 

Meridian Tiger: From the start, you knew that your relationship with the prince would be nothing more than a performance. You had befriended him with only the intention of following the Emperor’s order. Any strange activity or oddity in his behavior, you acted as the middle man, reporting every movement. At first it had been routine procedure but the more you grew to know the prince, the more you pitied him. While he resembled his father, you knew that his heart was not made of the same stone ruthlessness. Perhaps this was his saving grace, a hope for change. Somewhere in a parallel universe you’d like to have truly been his friend. But you know better than to dote on foolish dreams. You had dashed your chances when you opened your mouth and undid the veil of lies. 

Ghost Moth: You had met her at one of the Emperor’s parties and couldn’t have been more different. Where you dressed pragmatically, she basked in the spotlight. Surprisingly it was her who had approached you and while you had assumed her to be yet another vapid idiot, your interaction promised more. No audible words were exchanged but you recognized strength when you met it. While you had enjoyed her company and on the rare occasion, accepted friendship you knew better than to endanger another, thus bracing your familiar walls again. You had long believed you’d never see her again until the news revealed her powers. Unlike the other times, something within you wants to save her. You wouldn’t let another fall to a fate like your sisters. 

✗ SEVERED CHIMERA IS PLAYED BY MINNIE┅

[severedchimera]

HEADCANONS —

Kenna’s mark is located just behind their left ear.

Kenna and Tanna’s grandmother and parents were a part of the Madhouse Renegade. Their family has always been deeply entrenched in the politics of the empire, and the politics of the empire has shaped the tragedy of their family. A sister turns against brother for speaking in veiled shadows of the emperor. A brother runs with his wife and twin daughters to hide in the night. His sister reports of treason, and becomes the reason for her brother and sister-in-law’s death. But his children live on, and when they arrive at the sister’s doorstep, her eyes shine unnaturally in the light. The emperor will, at last, appreciate her as one of the elite few who swear unyielding, bloody fealty.

For all of their stoicism and icy veneer, Kenna has a soft spot for sweets. It reminds them of their grandmother, a kind and stern woman who showed her love not with words but with delicately wrapped candies.

Kenna and Tanna share a secret language with their hands. At first, it was only a layer of protection against their grandmother when they wanted to cause trouble, for their grandmother had sharp hearing but weak vision. When their powers came to light, it became a vow: that they would not use their powers against the other, and they would not create puppets of the other.

Kenna’s sense of humor is dry and quite monotone. It often catches people off-guard.

When they lived with their grandmother, Kenna helped with gardening while Tanna took to the kitchen. It suited them both. Kenna working quietly under the sun to rip out every weed and tend to every blossom. Tanna’s laughter as bright as the stars as she cut the vegetables. To this day, Kenna has nurtured their green thumb with an expansive knowledge of plants, though they do not allow themselves the pleasure of tending to their own garden. Not until Tanna is free.

It’s become a kind of ritual. In that small blip of a moment between setting their eyes upon their target and making them captive, Kenna’s lips move soundlessly to utter a short prayer. Please don’t let them become like Tanna. A shell of a star, a weak echo of the girl who once made Kenna laugh so hard they peed.

Kenna sings when they’re alone, now that their sister is not around to fill their life with music and melody. Their voice is not as charismatic or polished as Tanna’s, but they can hold a simple tune well enough. 

(implied capital punishment tw) Upon arriving at the palace, Kenna did make a friend. The cook’s son became a confidant, who won their companionship through treats and a knack for a catchy ditty. He reminded them of Tanna, and one night, Kenna confessed to him their plan to run away with Tanna. But the cook’s son was to Kenna what Kenna was to the prince. They paid for this moment of weakness, and with a hoarse throat and wounds where clothing could hide, they vowed to never trust another again.

[flawlessbeautyqueens]

Hannah John-Kamen photographed by We Are The Rhoads for GQ UK (2018)

[kxowledge]

Sophocles, Philoctetes