No more laughter. No more light. No more watching her spin through the air, a ball of colors flying far and fast. No more Alicent. Dead, dead, dead.
Nyla's heart hurts, recalling the kindness of the woman who'd shown her friendship when she first arrived at Le Cirque des Rêves. In the dark, in the night – Alicent had been light. She'd shone bright and had given off warmth and now there's a chill in the air. An echo of Alicent - her voice in the wind, the remnants of her laughter rustling leaves.
Nyla closes her eyes and takes a breath. Then another. She holds it until her lungs hurt and only then does she exhale, slowly and quietly before opening her eyes and moving to the table in the center of the trailer. She gives a kind smile to the first person there for Alicent's vigil. A revolving door of memories.
"Thank you for coming," she says gently, taking off gloves and resting her hands palm up on the table. "Thank you for sharing your memories of Alicent. It's truly a beautiful thing to do for others as well." Memories given to Nyla before being shared with the next person, and so on and so forth until, eventually, there are countless memories to share amongst the circus. Alicent kept alive in their hearts and minds, even if she's not alive in their present.
NYLA DARLING is a MEMORY ARTIST and 29 years old. Originally from TORONTO, they have been with the circus for 5 YEARS. They look like VICTORIA PEDRETTI and possess the ability of MEMORY ABSORPTION. They are known to be GENEROUS, CREATIVE, and INSIGHTFUL, but can also be GUARDED, MISCHIEVOUS, and PARTICULAR.
CHARACTER THEMES: authenticity, self-expression, resonance, compassion, self-sacrifice, altruism
SUMMARY OF ABILITY: Nyla can absorb memories of another person through physical contact of their skin. She can sometimes project memories to others through touch as well. If given prolonged intentional exposure to someone, they can sometimes feel like they have vertigo. She's since learned to control her abilities.
BIO
Nyla Darling grew up all over, her parents always a bit flighty, taking them where the wind led. Her father was a wildlife photographer and her mother was a painter who did portraits and murals as they traveled.
Some of the work she did was in hospitals and she'd bring Nyla along with her. It was there that Nyla got her first glimpse of what people did to help others in a tangible way.
When she was 12/13, Nyla’s abilities manifested. It was hard to control it and her mom was the first person to give her a pair of gloves to prevent unwanted memories.
She turned to art during this time, sketching out memories she’d absorbed as a catharsis of sorts, like she was emptying her mind onto the blank page. It helped her adjust to her newfound abilities and refocus on her goals as the years went on.
Nyla ended up becoming a travel nurse, taking a page out of her parents nomadic lifestyle but also doing something she’s wanted to do since she was a girl, seeing nurses work as her mother painted murals on hospital walls.
With her abilities more under control the older she got, she was able to mostly execute her work without issue. But there were instances where she’d slip and work became harder. Sometimes she’d see someone with broken bones and bruises who claimed to fall down the stairs, but when she brushed their hands or took their temperature, she could see their memories of abuse come flooding through. Or she’d see the memories of people who hated hospitals because of their loss. The emotions that came with the memories could give her a headache sometimes too.
She would move to different hospitals over a few years post grad, traveling around Canada but her exhaustion grew. Nyla wanted to help people in a tangible way, but her abilities meant that she couldn’t fully be herself in doing so. She always had to come up with an excuse for knowing something she shouldn’t. Or for always knowing what questions to ask a potential victim. Nyla found the pressure of keeping her secret to be too much and after three years she took time off, trying to find a renewed sense of purpose.
Enter the Night Circus. One night outside of Vancouver, Nyla found herself in the black and white tents. They were there for five nights. A rare stretch of performances and Nyla went to everyone. She was captivated by the wonder of the place and that was something noticed by a scout. While they didn’t know Nyla’s exact gift to start with, they knew she was one of them and invited her to stick around and see what the Night Circus was really about.
She joined five years ago and works as a memory artist. Rather than trying to describe an effervescent, intangible memory in hopes of someone capturing it, people can share their memories with Nyla and she does quick but detailed sketches of said memory. Just like she’d done to help herself when these abilities first manifested.
People leave her tent with a tangible memory in their hands, drawn with expert precision, details picked up from the now shared memory.
And while her official nursing days are behind her, Nyla still seeks opportunities to help where she can, offering her medical experience to help around the circus as well. The Night Circus isn’t what she’d expected five years ago, but it’s the first time she feels like she can still help people in different ways, all while being who she really is.
"The sky is darker today, Indie," Nyla observes as they walk through the market, towards Lola and Luna's stall. "It's like the stars have gone to sleep." It makes no difference to Nyla, who's cup is empty today, stories dried on the tip of her tongue as she walks in step with Indie. A restless night of blurred faces and places leaves her spirit feeling heavy each step of the way. "But I suspect they'll wake tomorrow." Nyla casts blue hues skyward, and then at Indie with a soft smile. "They dream loudly." She shares without explaining. Words are words are words. Sometimes they have obvious meaning and sometimes, most times, their meaning has to be uncovered, excavated. "Did you meet with them yet?" she asks after a beat, meaning Saint. Nyla is curious about her Indie's affairs more so out of a desire to know her friend is safe, than the ins and outs of her trade. @gloriouswhispers
Nyla was born to a hopeless situation in The Wards and she ended up lost to the system along when one day her mother never came home.
Growing up, she had to be quick on her feet and scrappy to get by but she was always curious, clever and creative, finding ways to land on her feet. She was still young when she met Ilyana who taught her the way of The Ethereal Path alongside others. Though Astra was the one she stayed closest to over the years.
Nyla became a story teller, sharing tales woven together over centuries, plucked from the stars in the sky. For so many, life in The Wards had beaten them down, making them feel stuck at the bottom. Nyla sought to bring color to their lives through her tales, giving them threads of hope from the galaxy.
She says that the stories she tells are not her own, the stars speak, she'd say, if you have ears to listen. A clever way of being honest about what she does without giving away the hidden truth beneath the surface. That her stories weave in clever messages as well. People who need information spread, either to groups or individuals would get their information through her small network of whispers, and she'd weave them into tales.
Few know that Nyla herself is the one organizing the dissemination of secret messages, through her tales or other means. All people know is that if they want information passed clandestinely, in a near untraceable way, they need to get said information to The Oracle. Sometimes people see Nyla herself, thinking she's simply a helper, but she doesn't mind, enjoying the anonymity of the title.
About four months ago, Nyla was on a shuttle to Equinox when hijackers hit it hard, violent and ruthless. All Nyla remembers was staring out the window, wondering about the next solar flares they'd see, and then there was a bright light and heat as hot as a star and then there was nothing. She woke up two weeks later in a Equinox hospital, only to be told that surgeries had been successful and she'd be on the mend in no time. She was lucky that the cardiac department in heart transplants, and that her blood type made it possible for her to receive a donor's heart. Ordinarily, the doctor explained, she wouldn't have been a candidate, but the donor had explicitly stated before she passed that she only wanted her heart to go to someone from the lower levels. Someone who wouldn't have a chance like this again.
Nyla didn't know what it meant, only that the universe had seen fit to align the stars to keep her alive. It took another two weeks before she was deemed well enough to leave, and in that time she'd simply been gone from The Wards, only to return after a month. People thought The Oracle had gone in hiding after recent events and deaths, but when Nyla returned, work continued.
It's been about four months since her transplant, and even though Nyla feels like herself, she feels apart from herself as well. Like sometimes she's watching herself from afar. The stars still speak to her but sometimes she feels like something else is trying to as well. There are days she wakes up, dreaming of places and faces she's never been or seen. The names don't come, or they're barely out of reach, and she gives herself a headache trying to reach them.
Still, she tries to put the incident behind her, seeing it as an opportunity for a second chance from the universe, or trying to. Nyla also relies on her closest friends in Astra, Indie and Lola to remind her of who she is when she starts to feel distant from herself, and when she starts to feel like she's watching her life from the outside.
CONNECTIONS
People who are part of her messenger system – probably not many but a few trusted folks would be good of getting messages to The Oracle or almost....suggesting that people reach out to The Oracle give their messages.
People who genuinely enjoy her story telling and enjoy hearing more of them.
Someone else who was on the shuttle with her and survived – maybe she meets them and knows they were there without them saying but like their aura or whatever feels like they were there
isabella strode through one of the outer halls, a loose circle coat wrapped around her skinny shoulders; her pale skin was made paler by the cold and the wet she was subjected to, although she found little other choice, as she retreated from the chambers of some castilian noble or another who had aught to complain about: as always, it seemed her father, sister and brother were nowhere to be seen, and the placating of her nobles fell yet again on her shoulders. it felt a waste: she would be only a duchess, no need for placation or diplomacy. so lost in thought was she about the ire of men and her duty in soothing it, that she did not notice the woman she stumbled upon until her left side collided with another’s.
“ goodness ! “ she exclaimed, albeit a slight bit against her will, and then turned to the lady in question; it was no one she knew, nor anyone she recognized, but she frowned anyway. affecting another soothing, empty tone, the princess offered her apologies. “ my lady, i must ask your forgiveness, it seems i was lost in thought, and in my haste to ESCAPE this wretched weather, i have trampled you. are you quite alright ? “
