All In Your Head (TheNerd & Treasure)

Treasure

Treasure

Void
Name: Damien Richards
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Personality: Paranoid, troubled, erratic, frightened, and a bit self-centered.
History: Damien was on his way! The eldest son of one of the most influential families of their part of England, he expected to inherit his father's mercantile businesses and lead an easy life of parties, women, and money. On top of being born rich, he had an incredible mind for numbers, though he rarely bothered to use said mind. Then it all went wrong... His family refuses to talk about what exactly happened, but shortly after his sixteenth birthday, Damien was in some sort of accident and is now apparently an invalid. The servants and their gossip said otherwise, but the exact details of what happened to the young heir and who or what he is now is still shrouded in mystery two years later.
Appearance: 5'9", incredibly pale and frail, always looks haunted, dark brown hair, chocolate eyes, narrow build
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It wasn't right. None of this was right! He'd made a mistake somewhere. This outcome hadn't been right! It couldn't be right. Then again, was he trying to force an outcome he wanted instead of letting the right outcome present itself? It was possible, he supposed. He grit his teeth in frustration as his eraser dashed across the greenish colored blackboard, banishing the white chalk lines that decorated its entire wall-length surface. He had to get it right! He needed to prove this theory. If he could just prove this, then so much else would fall into place. He froze, the chalk hovering above the blackboard. His hand trembled slightly.

The white piece of chalk fell to the floor and shattered. Damien dropped his now empty hand and closed his eyes. Only when his lids closed did he realize how dry and gritty his eyes were from lack of sleep. When had he last sleep? He couldn't even remember. Days? Surely only a couple of days. The body started shutting down after ten days of no sleep, and he was not dead yet. Noise below his feet brought him back to his senses. Speaking of sleep, he must have been awake all night. As he stood here in the attic, below him the maids were stirring and starting to prepare for the day. Oh well. No matter. The maids were getting ready for the day, which meant the doctor would be by soon. He needed to try to finish this work before he arrived.

Damien stood before his blackboard and stared at the white lines marching across the dark surface. They lay there, flat and unmoving, mocking him. The answer was here, somewhere, hidden among the letters, numbers, and symbols, but he couldn't find it! He had to find it. He was supposed to find it. Why else had he been given the gift he had? If he could not figure this out, then it was wasted... he was a failure... or perhaps this was their way of torturing him. The problem that would never be solved because it had no answer.

With a tiny shriek, Damien grabbed his head in both hands and pounded his forehead into the board twice. "Why?" he keened. "What is it! I have to find it! I need to know! Why won't you tell me!" He let his head hit the board again then stood there panting, his forehead pressed against the cool, gritty surface.

He took a deep breath then coughed as he inhaled some chalk dust. He straightened and ran a hand over his forehead, smearing the dust more. Never mind. He would find this answer. No question was truly unsolvable. Nightmarishly difficult, perhaps, but not unsolvable. All he had to do was find just one clue, and it would be like the key in the lock. He could do this. The chalk had fallen. He picked it up, wiped down his board, and started again. Letters, symbols, and numbers dashed into being under his frantic hand only to be wiped away and rewritten in a different order. He would solve this. He had to! For the sake of humanity.
 
OC Form

Celia Vanderwalt

Gender: Female

Age: Looks 19, is actually 399

Born: June 30, 1621

Zodiac sign: Cancer

Species: Lycan werewolf (Vanderwalt line), guardian angel

Marital status: Single

Looks:
Body- Petite and fit, but not so much as a child’s body.
Face and head- She has really long black hair that reaches her feet tied up into a curly ponytail and golden eyes. Her ear and tail fur are also black, and she has tanned skin. She wears makeup that appears mature.
Height- 5’
Clothes- She wears what looks to be a classic lolita style outfit with a boatload of black Victorian style. She also wears black boots instead of heels.
When form switches to Farayui the Seer- She gains a set of white angel wings and her outfit goes pure white with hints of gold. She also gains a tiara that looks similar to a halo, and it’s made of diamond and gold.

Quirks: Power Claw and Nighteye- Power Claw gives its user a set of claws that are most commonly made of their birthstone. Celia’s claws are made of diamond and alexandrite. This gives her a certain level of regular defensive magic, but she prefers to use it to enhance her second quirk, Nighteye, which enhances a Lycan’s ability to read minds and lives through aura. This basically makes her a chrono mage of sorts.

Personality: Kind, caring, and gentle, but also pretty honest. She’s quite sensitive as well.

Likes: Playing chess, making others happy, fashion

Dislikes: Getting yelled at, being told what to do, stereotypes

Relationships:
Father- Bfared Harley (deceased as of the Lochenburg Massacre)
Mother- Dahilia Vanderwalt (deceased as of the Lochenburg Massacre)
Siblings- All the Vanderwalt children
Nieces- Lora, Saraki Sword-Shield, Creed
Nephew- Kiramosha, Jorgensen (deceased as the target of an assassin)
Alpha- Angela Vanderwalt

Backstory: As the 26th Vanderwalt sister, Celia was always a wholesome child. When the Massacre rolled around and killed her parents, she sought after chess as a way of escape from her mental illness. She later wound up in Victorian England after she made her way there for work, about to pursue a nurse job. She currently is working for a very rich aristocratic family in London.

Celia was just outside walking up to the mansion, humming "London Bridge" to herself as she approached the gates. She'd been hired today, and she hoped to make a good impression with both the doctor and the mother of the patient. She'd been told it was a nasty one, even particularly for a human. She looked on the bright side of it, the patient couldn't be too ill, could he? Nothing a little persuading and a few games of chess wouldn't fix, she hoped. Her true identity was hidden here, there wasn't anything more she needed to do to be granted a relatively quiet life here.

The news from before had stated that the patient was with a delusion of aliens, a theatre one. It wasn't spot on accurate, but disturbingly close to this planet's commoners and rich families discovering the existence of the Lycan race. Some government officials already knew, and didn't particularly take to the idea of race integration. However, Celia was an exception. She was to act as mediator between the commoners and government, and if there should arise suspicion, she was to quell it. She was given a less than ideal living situation for this type of job, but gladly accepted a humble existence in a little neighborhood near London.

She never considered the severity of these situations, she just did as she was told, much to her dislike, but did anyway out of the kindness of her heart. The doctor would soon be here, so she decided to let herself be escorted by the maids to the massive mansion door. She felt slightly intimidated by this, but felt as if this was the start of a new life's chapter. "This is it...a new frontier, new world, new job. Don't fail me now, Heirai," she said, clutching and fixing her watch locket around her neck, taking a peek at the picture of her late mother inside of it.

She found the actual mansion quite pleasant, despite being so big. There were strange auras everywhere, and they didn't seem from humans nor any supernaturals, but they were nonetheless pleasant. It might have been powerful enough to drive a human child insane, however. That fact was quickly dismissed as she was taken by the hand to the mother of the patient.
 
Mrs. Richards sat ramrod straight in the dimly lit parlour with a cup of tea before her on the table. She wore black accented with white, making her naturally pale skin stand out like a ghostly spector in the darkness. Her dark hair was drawn back in a severe bun, almost as severe as the expression she leveled at the new visitor with icy blue eyes. The austere woman had her hand neatly folded in her lap, her thin lips drawn tight in a perfectly powdered face.

"So," she said in a soft voice that was deeper than one would expect, each vowel perfectly ennunciated, "you are the girl my daughter chose to hire before gallavanting off on holliday, leaving the training to me. She seems to think you can handle a situation that has sent twelve nursemiads running in two years. Tell me, child, what makes you different?"
 
Celia approached with a confident step, her warm demeanor seeming to contrast with the coldness of Mrs. Richards. "Ma'am, I specialize in these types of delusions," she replied, seemingly just as soft, but higher pitched, and with what sounded like a light Scottish accent. "I've at least a mind not to run from the inevitable unpleasant nature of these."

She proceeded to sit down with Mrs. Richards, sitting up as straight as she can. Celia looked a little odd to the woman in front of her, as her eyes were an odd amber like color. It wasn't threatening, but it was some kind of sign, that was for sure.
 
Mrs. Richards' eyes followed the new girl, glinting with disapproval as she took a seat without being invited. She said nothing, howevere, merely picked up her cup of tea. She sipped it delicately, returned it to its saucer, and placed her hands on her knees once again.

"I have heard the speech before," she said dryly. "We shall see if you are truly any different from your predacessors. If you last, then you will get a raise, but for now, you shall work for the minimum wage." She rose, her black dress swirling elegantly around her. It was not until she stood that one could realize exactly how tall she was. Tall and thin, like a rod of iron. "Come. I will introduce you to my son."
 
Celia followed suit, seemingly unfazed by the glare. She's seen a little too many people that looked twice her height, this was almost nothing compared to her alpha. She nodded knowingly and followed Mrs. Richards.

The walk to the patient's room was full of those strangely pleasant auras again, as if the house were infested with some sort of bad energy. She didn't even have to try to use her hidden quirk, it triggered on its own as if she had an annoyingly sharp clairvoyant sense. Again, this didn't faze her, as she felt it nearly every day. The pep in her step definitely wasn't gone yet. She'd soon find out if the situation was as bad as she had been told. It couldn't be he actually had a vision of her kind, right? He was probably confusing it with his delusions, he'd soon forget....or so she hoped.
 
Mrs. Richards did not even glance back at Celia as she led the way up the back stairs to the attic. Normally, the attic was reserved for servants, but after the "towel incident," it was determined that a larger space that was more easily segregated from the rest of the house would be best until Damien's mental state could be trusted. Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she crossed the small landing and rapped sharply. There was no answer, but she did not seem surprised. On the other side of the door, something rustled at a frantic pace.

"Damien, I am coming in," she announced after a moment of silence. She turned the knob that locked on the outside and opened the door.

The room was long and narrow, intended for multiple beds, but now only one resided in the shadowy corner away from the three tiny windows spaced out along the sloped wall. A table, two chairs, a wardrobe, and a trunk made up a room at one end of the attic near the door, and at the other end, a couple of boards covered in old bead sheets leaned against the wall. Damien, himself, sat on the bed, watching through dark eyes. He had his mother's height and thin build, but his thinness went beyond even her corsetted figure, and his pale skin was clearly due to a complete absence of sunlight. Beyond the black hair and pale skin, he did not seem to share a single trait with his mother. Perhaps he took after his father?

"So. This is the new nurse?" he asked in a whispery voice. He looked away, his jaw clenching. "I do not like her."

"What a surprise since you too so well to all the others," Mrs. Richards said in an even tone. "Ms. Vanderwalt, this is my son, Damien. Damien, this is Ms. Celia Vanderwalt. The doctor shall be here shortly, then we shall proceed."

Damien did not even glance at Celia, his eyes on the collection of colored glass bottles hanging above his bed.
 
Celia gave a warm smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Damien," she chirped. Noticing that he definitely wasn't about to accept her fully, she turns her attention to Mrs. Richards for a little bit. She's definitely a little more sensible than her son, but Celia could see that the two equally didn't want anything to do with her, had the circumstance been different. She had an optimistic vision of this, however.

"Ma'am, should you need anything else, do not hesitate to call for me," she said, her high pitched voice sounding almost sickeningly annoying to Damien. She almost sounded like a charlatan's child, despite having such a mature style. It was almost a relief nothing else was wrong with her.

She looked around the room, noticing that most of the strange aura was coming from this room. It emanated off of the bottles and through some of the cracks. Standing still only made the feeling of it worse, as it felt cold now. She could've sworn the whole room was possessed with something, but of course, she had to focus on the job at hand before she went mad herself.
 
"There will be no hesitation," Mrs. Richards said cooly. She glanced away as the door opened, and a timid little maid quickly curtsied.

"Madam, the doctor is here now," she chirped.

The lady of the house sniffed. "Good. It is about time. He is a full seven minutes late."

The maid curtsied again and beat a hasty retreat. The doctor appeared in the doorway, a tired-looking man with dark blond hair slicked within an inch of its life and plastered to his skull. Perhaps he was hoping it would hide the balding patch on the top of said skull. He smiled vaguely at the three in the room before turning his attention to Mrs. Richards.

"Ah, my lady Richards, how delightful it is to see you again!" he greeted with clearly forced cheer.

"You are late, Doctor," she replied.

Whatever genuine cheer there was slipped away. "Yes... yes, so I am. There was an issue with-"

"This is Damien's new Nursemaid. If you will please introduce her to the procedure?" she interrupted, gesturing to Celia.

The doctor turned to face her. "Another one, eh? Hello, my dear. Have you had any experience in dealing with troubled people?" There was no attempt to exchange names or get to know her. He didn't seem to think it was worth the effort. This one would be gone soon enough, just like the last several. Why waste effort?
 
Celia smiles, giving a slightly reassuring look. "Many of them, sir. I've traveled around the world to help them, as I don't really see another job for me," she said calmly. "Frankly, I like helping others with their ailments."

To any one of her fellow Lycans, this clearly would've been a dirty lie. To her, it was the only way to keep in hiding effectively. It was worth all the effort on her end. The doctor seemed gullible enough, he wouldn't think twice about her assumed humanity with such a noble cause. Celia always strived to help others, that was true, but she didn't particularly like doing so. She was just there for emotional support most of the time back at home. She also wasn't a slacker, she'd stay on this case even if it meant her death. Her alpha would avenge her anyway.
 
While the doctor wasn't exactly the brightest candle, he was no fool, and Celia had forgotten two things with her little tail: Her assumed age and her gender. While it was not rare for a woman to travel, it was not exactly common, either, and certainly not for one so young unless as a companion with another woman. Therefore, it should not have come as a surprise that the doctor raised a brow at her.

"Really? You have traveled the world, hmm? Quite a feat for one so young," he said dryly.

"Never mind," Mrs. Richards said with a flick of her pale hand. "We are running too low on applicants to be too picky about their histories." She gave Celia a cool look. "Please continue."

The doctor shrugged. "Very well. She will be your problem when I am not here. Now, world weary child, come here and observe." He approached Damien.

"Oh, look, I get to be a part of the conversation," the young man muttered grumplily.
 
Celia approached Damien, ready for what came next. She was basically fearless, persistently happy. It was definitely a little odd, but the doctor would have to speak with her alone about it.

She then looked at the doctor, knowingly. She was waiting for his move.
 
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Damien flinched back away from Celia, scowling darkly at her. "Keep her away," he said sharply. "I don't like her. She stinks." No, stinks was not the right word, but Damien wasn't certain what the correct description was of this... sensation he was getting from the new girl. It was unsettling, and he felt like hiding or running or striking out. Strangely primitive reactions. He would analyze his own reactions later. Right now, he wanted this creature away from him!

"Now, now, Master Damien, please don't be difficult," the doctor said calmly. "Young miss, if you will stand there at the corner of the bed, I wish for you to observe. These procedures are simple enough, especially for a world traveler such as yourself." The last bit was said with only a hint of sarcasm, but the doctor was quickly about his work. "First, this lovely little glass tube is the thermometer. Take his temperature every day about this time and mark it on his chart. You should know he runs a little cooler than what is considered the norm."

The doctor moved through each thing quickly and concisely, giving Celia little time to observe, and completely ignoring Damien's feeble objections. After the temperature reading, there was the pulse, then the blood pressure, and finally the medication to be handed to him. Damien took the pills and popped them in his mouth without a word, but his glare never left Celia.

"This is a tincture he is to take three times a day to help keep him calm," said the doctor, pointing out the glass bottle sitting on the bedside table, complete with its little dropper. "Do you have any questions?"
 
Celia was totally unfazed by glares, as always. She kept up a cheery act well. "No, sir. I quite well understand," she said, this time softening her tone to a calmer voice, so as to not sound annoying.

In spite of all this morally vile behavior toward her, she would need to fervently pray for Damien's safety, as she saw that those pills were not all of the miracle the doctor saw them as. They instead were mercury pills, basically imbibing poison to the the poor boy. She would have to agree to this so as to not anger or upset anyone. It was her first day, after all. She was glad that there were a little more modern tools here, as this was quite a rich family, and she would have to make good use of the actually effective things rather than human superstition. She was above mortal pettiness, after all. Even so, he would eventually warm up to her, she thought.

It was quickly interrupted by a thought to do her job.
 
"Good. The rest of the time, you will be required to stay nearby in case he should need you or suffer an episode," the doctor said, turning away to put everything back in his bag, save for the stuff that stayed with Celia.

"You will have half of every Monday off," Mrs. Richards said in her frosty tone. "Payment comes every other Friday. You will be responsible for keeping my son's room clean, ensuring he reaches all appointments on time, and for maintaining complete silence as to all proceedings here. Do you have any questions?"

Damien waited until no one was looking then slipped the pills out of his mouth and into his hand. Quick as a wink, they were tossed under his bed.
 
"No ma'am, all understood," she replied. She sensed another strange aura, this time emanating from Damien. She would definitely be keeping a close eye on him this time around. The fact that she'd have to stay around him didn't faze her at all, as she liked to meet new people, even the crazy ones.

Half of Monday off didn't sound too bad either, as she had more than one way of spending it. She would probably have no time to do her usual, however.
 
"Good. Keep in mind, child," Mrs. Richards gave her a narrow look, "if you tell anyone what goes on here, I will ruin your life." She turned and walked out.

"Enjoy working for the Richards," the doctor said calmly before leaving.

Now all that were left were Damien and Celia. Damien sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes on the bottles once again as he waited stiffly. She would leave, wouldn't she? She had to leave!
 
Celia glanced with her odd eyes at Damien before promptly taking a seat in one of the chairs, with enough distance between her and him. She had to be aware and not scared, but certainly prepared. She turned to face him, sitting perfectly still in anticipation of some kind of episode.

Nearly every human she's dealt with has immediately had an episode in her presence, she wasn't expecting any different this time. His aura was just too odd to ignore, and she was tempted to read it further, find out the problem the way her kind did for thousands of years. She hated that she couldn't, however, as she preferred a smooth approach to everything, like it was at home.
 
Damien stood and walked over to the window. He stood staring down at the people moving below. Busy little people leading their busy little lives, none of which had any idea what was really going on. The true darkness inhabiting this world. He frowned slightly. When had he become such a melodramatic thespian?

He turned to look at Celia. He supposed he couldn't keep ignoring her. "I am thirsty. I require a drink," he said. "Go down to the kitchen, you can ask the cook for something."

It was the cook's day off. As soon as she was gone, he would lock the door.
 
Thankfully, Celia had been fully prepared for this. She knew a lie when she heard it, she'd even somehow felt it off the strange aura. She also knew who was off when, as she'd talked with the maids before. She'd play the long, less risky con, however.

"Yes, sir, right away," she said, smiling. She got up from her seat and exited, going straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water for him. She walked a little slower than normal, waiting for the door to shut and lock. Now was a great time to secretly put her quirk to good use, as the auras around her were spinning in her head. She could almost see something out of it.
 
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