{ information } profile
Name: Tyki Mikk
Birthday: February 6, 1974
Age: 24 (1998)
Nationality: French-American
Affiliation: Noah
Personality: Even before remembering her past, Tyki never considered herself much of a woman, and chose to live her life as a man whenever she could manage it. Her mannerisms are very typically male, in the way that she carries herself and speaks. Her words are harsh and unrestrained-- very unladylike, in every sense of the word. She dislikes being called a woman and will promptly make sure you understand this fact, through force if necessary.
Sarcastic and crass, she's not a bad person, just a bit off-kilter. Even her friends bear the brunt of her off-color remarks, and her face is often plastered with a smug grin. Still, she's good to her friends. She sincerely cares for them, and can be a fun person to be around so long as you can get past her rough exterior.
She is, however, very slow to trust. Many of the people who she considers friends are those who have managed to be with her for years, and it takes more than just an acquaintance to gain her trust. She is inherently more trusting of women than she is of men, but neither get much of a break at all when it comes to winning her over. That doesn't mean she won't associate with anyone she comes across; in fact, she's fairly sociable, even speaking in a familiar manner with strangers. But when it comes to actually getting close to anyone, that's another story.
Because of her "upbringing", she harbors a lot of hatred for her brother Cyril. Mentions of him will be met with an immediate change of subject, and she has a number of strange fears and tics ingrained into her thanks to him. She flinches at having her cheeks touched, and hates having her hair stroked. She has a fear of small, dark spaces, and she hates anyone seeing her body, forcing her to wear long sleeves and long pants constantly, although she doesn't particularly have negative self esteem anymore.
For all her bravado, she can put her fist where her mouth is and back up her words. She packs a surprising punch and can hold her own in most brawls, not to mention she can take her alcohol like a man. She enjoys a good game of poker, and enjoys winning it even more; she's not adverse to cheating, either, a habit that's carried over from her past life. And while she's not particularly reckless, she's been known to engage in a few petty crimes here and there...thankfully, though, she's never been caught.
Despite everything, she has a good deal of pride and can be slightly self-centered. She does what she likes, when she likes, and nobody is going to stop her. It's her way of making up for the years of oppression, and it can get her in trouble at times. She's a little too haughty for her own good, but seems to understand that there are at least some boundaries. Some.
After awakening as a Noah, she's developed less of a propensity for living a double life as she used to. Having had more time as a human, she spends most of her time in her white form, and as the war hasn't started to kick off again yet, she sees little reason to be in her black form more than absolutely necessary, reverting to it only when the Earl is around. She doesn't enjoy killing as much as she used to; she still gets a sick thrill out of it, but having Allen in her life makes her regret it that much more every time she returns home. A part of her wants nothing to do with the Noah anymore, as she starts to value her human friends more than she ever did in her past life, but she sticks with it, a victim of her own hatred and unable to completely let go of her brother like that. She knows what'll happen if she betrays the family, and she doesn't want to risk it.
Her hobbies, besides gambling, include singing, dancing, napping, and doing coin and card tricks.
Personality Developments: Dressing room specific. Having come to the DR with her close friend Allen Walker, she's finding that she sticks to him a lot more than she used to back home. Being here and having him exposed to the Noah and the Exorcists breaks down a lot of inhibitions she had about getting close to him. She still doesn't want him to know anything about the Holy War, but having him dragged her means that she no long has a say in the matter.
Because of this, she finds herself getting a little more affectionate with him. There's no longer any reason for her not to, and part of her wants to get closer to him, if only to protect him. She doesn't know about his Innocence or his past life yet.
As well, because of the number of other Noah in the DR, she's found that she can utilize her black and white forms to her benefit. In her white form, she can get away with walking among the Exorcists, none of which she sees as her enemies, considering that they aren't from her world. As for the Noah, she can revert to her black form and get away amongst them, even if she doesn't feel any particular allegiance to them, again, seeing as they're not from her world.
History: Tyki was born to a loving French mother and a not-so-loving American father in the heart of New Orleans. Things were tolerable for a while-- until, of course, her parents died in a car accident when she was only four. By then, her elder brother Cyril was old enough to take care of the both of them off of the money that their parents had left behind.
That was when things got worse. Much worse.
While they didn't have a lot of money to spare, they had enough to live comfortably. It wasn't money that the suddenly-two-smaller household lacked. Instead, the deficiency came in her brother's treatment of her. He wasn't just strict on his younger sister, but down right cruel. Punishments for transgressions could be serious. He would often slap her for the smaller things, but go so far as locking her in the closet for hours at a time when she would misbehave. She learned from a young age when to bite her tongue and how to lie without getting caught.
And she learned from a young age how to hate.
That hate would grow and fester within her over the years, the hatred for her brother and the things he did to her, the things he taught her to fear-- his hand on her cheek, his fingers through her hair. She would bide her time through it all, though. She didn't dare report him to their social worker, and she always looked pristine. Another unfortunate side effect of learning to lie, she was able to convince any of the adults who might have pulled her away from him that there was absolutely nothing wrong. She pretended to be happy, pretended to be cared for.
Of course somewhere deep down she knew that Cyril wanted the best for her. He didn't know better, right? But as she grew older and realized the folly in this logic, she began to loathe him all the more. Of course, she couldn't get her rebellious urges out at home. Starting in high school, she began to feel more and more comfortable living as a boy. Cyril wouldn't allow her to wear anything but girl's clothes, so she would keep her boys clothes in her locker and change once she got to school. A late bloomer, she never grew the sort of feminine curves that would give away her gender, but most of her friends just regarded her as a tomboy. She started, slowly, to identify as male, though, and only associate with girls if she was calling them her girlfriend.
Most of this she hid from her brother. She was practiced at it by then, but what she didn't managed to get past him, she was still punished for, and in worse ways, as her age afforded her more pain tolerance than her childhood had.
She never let herself fall, though. His harsh words and harsher punishments took their toll, but instead of wearing down, she steeled herself against them and stayed as strong as she could. She became determined to leave him behind once she was old enough, the urge to rebel bubbled up inside of her.
Her chance came on her 18th birthday. Old enough to leave on her own, she made arrangements, set the plan in motion. She met him in the kitchen, a pair of scissors in her hands. But she didn't attack. Instead, she took the scissors to her hair, that he had insisted she keep, that she loathes so much as a symbol of everything that had happened between them. She took her ponytail and cut it off right then and there, then made to flee. She expected him to pursue, but instead, when she glanced over her shoulder, she only saw him smiling.
Why he smiled like that wouldn't become clear until years later.
After fleeing the house that she'd grown up in, she stayed with friends for a while, moving from couch to couch until she managed to get on her feet. She eventually got a job at a local electronics retailer, loathing it but needing the income, and started rooming with another friends who'd graduated two years earlier. She would have been content to take her life from there. She was away...she was free. She was free to dress as she wanted, eat what she wanted, do what she wanted. She was finally able to start living her life as a man, and having left all her clothes behind anyway, was able to start anew.
She was 20 when the transformation happened. She had been walking home from work one evening, listening to her discman, when a sharp pain ran across her forehead. She'd thought it was just going to be a particularly terrible headache, but when she raised her hand to her forehead, it came back with blood on it. By the time she stumbled into the hospital, the blood was running down her face and a row of seven cross-shaped wounds spread across her forehead. She didn't know what to do, or say; her head hurt, and suddenly there were new memories in her head, of another time and place, a past life, and the man she had once been. Thankfully it didn't take a genius to see what was wrong with her and she was admitted swiftly.
Since she could not provide a logical reason for those wounds to have just appeared-- she tried telling them it just happened, but she wasn't the first to try that trick-- and since she didn't care to identify an attacker who might have done something like that to her, she was forced to stay for twenty-four hour suicide watch. She resigned to it and allowed herself to be checked in for the night, he head bandaged and the wounds still aching. She thought a night would do her good, give her a chance to sort through all these strange thoughts, all these new recollections.
She didn't feel like she'd gone insane. But she couldn't think of any other reason these things would be coming to her now. Had she hit her head? But that wouldn't have cause such strange marks. She was left to believe that this was all real, somehow, as unbelievable as it was.
And then he appeared, a fat man with a strange and scary grin. It almost made her reconsider the notion that she had gone insane. But when her brother appeared next to him, she could feel nothing but fear. She was led from the hospital that night by the two of them, back to Atlanta, to where the Earl kept his base, to be debriefed on her life as a Noah.
She had to give the Earl credit-- he sorted through her memories in short order and helped things become much clearer. But she was loathe to see her brother again, and he seemed so smug about it that it made her blood boil all the more. That seemed to exasperate things. She was reintroduced to her powers, to choice, and to her Tease, which the Earl had kept over the years. And she was told that she could stay in Atlanta, or return to New Orleans.
But she'd never asked for any of this. She didn't want to be dragged into some war alongside her brother. She just wanted to live her life. In the interest of preserving it-- and still convinced it was all just a drug-induced delusion-- she opted to return to New Orleans. Of course she would be provided for. The chosen couldn't be seen living in poverty, after all, so when she returned home, she packed her bags and moved into well-furnished studio apartment on the good side of town.
It was a nice place, really, hand picked by the Earl himself, just for her, although it looked like someone else had seen to the decorating, thank god. One evening in the company of his garish attire had made her never want to see him again, if only for the assault on her retinas. Even better, the apartment lacked anything resembling closets. She liked that feature, really, but it made her wonder just a bit about how much this Earl knew about her life in this incarnation.
She didn't question it. She had money and she had freedom, and there wasn't a lot more that she could ask for. She quit her job and began bumming around. She took odd jobs here and there for the sake of keeping herself busy, and started attending classes at the community college for fun, and living was easy, except for the times when the Earl and her brother would check in on her.
As far as wars went, though, it was mild.
Her return to New Orleans turned out to be a twist of fate. Not too long afterwards, after the wounds had healed and she'd learned to switch between her white and black forms, the city came alive, just as it did every year on that day: Mardi Gras.
It was in the February of 1998. Feeling better since the transformation, and a little more confident in herself (a residual effect of the memories, she was sure) she couldn't help but attend a party. She'd lived in the city long enough that it would have been blasphemy for her to not go, and it was there that she ran into a boy who would go on to change her life.
At first, she didn't think much of him. He was quirky and a little cute in the way you'd consider a kid cute, but not that kind of person she'd find attractive. And yet something about him was magnetizing. Perhaps it was just the fact that she'd spilled his drink on him, and she'd felt obliged to take him home and let him get cleaned up, offering him a clean shirt.
She thought that would be the last she saw of him, but a few days later, she found herself feeling like she should call him up and see how he was doing. And she had, recently, been prone to giving into her own whims. Things went from there. She knew he was different right away. He was the first person to guess that she wasn't a man so quickly, or at least the first that she knew of. She found that she was strangely interested in befriending this boy, although he hadn't won her over quite so quickly.
[ to be continued... ]
The Earl's Spell: ...has been vastly overstated and understated to Bird over the course of her time as a Noah. She has been lead to believe that a natural part of being a Noah is that the earl as the final say over her life and death, a fact that has been used to keep her more or less in check over time. At the same time, the real spell that has been placed over her has kept her from remember her past life entirely. It has wiped all memory of Allen Walker from her mind, and has placed certain other blocks in place, including messing with her sense of Innocence. The intent in this is to allow her to get close to Allen and even some of the other Exorcists, and to then unleash her memories to increase her feelings of betrayal and to make her that much more angry, while simultaneously allowing the Earl and the rest of the Noah to "show her" how everything they've done has been "because they cared".
Appearance: tbd
Birthday: February 6, 1974
Age: 24 (1998)
Nationality: French-American
Affiliation: Noah
Personality: Even before remembering her past, Tyki never considered herself much of a woman, and chose to live her life as a man whenever she could manage it. Her mannerisms are very typically male, in the way that she carries herself and speaks. Her words are harsh and unrestrained-- very unladylike, in every sense of the word. She dislikes being called a woman and will promptly make sure you understand this fact, through force if necessary.
Sarcastic and crass, she's not a bad person, just a bit off-kilter. Even her friends bear the brunt of her off-color remarks, and her face is often plastered with a smug grin. Still, she's good to her friends. She sincerely cares for them, and can be a fun person to be around so long as you can get past her rough exterior.
She is, however, very slow to trust. Many of the people who she considers friends are those who have managed to be with her for years, and it takes more than just an acquaintance to gain her trust. She is inherently more trusting of women than she is of men, but neither get much of a break at all when it comes to winning her over. That doesn't mean she won't associate with anyone she comes across; in fact, she's fairly sociable, even speaking in a familiar manner with strangers. But when it comes to actually getting close to anyone, that's another story.
Because of her "upbringing", she harbors a lot of hatred for her brother Cyril. Mentions of him will be met with an immediate change of subject, and she has a number of strange fears and tics ingrained into her thanks to him. She flinches at having her cheeks touched, and hates having her hair stroked. She has a fear of small, dark spaces, and she hates anyone seeing her body, forcing her to wear long sleeves and long pants constantly, although she doesn't particularly have negative self esteem anymore.
For all her bravado, she can put her fist where her mouth is and back up her words. She packs a surprising punch and can hold her own in most brawls, not to mention she can take her alcohol like a man. She enjoys a good game of poker, and enjoys winning it even more; she's not adverse to cheating, either, a habit that's carried over from her past life. And while she's not particularly reckless, she's been known to engage in a few petty crimes here and there...thankfully, though, she's never been caught.
Despite everything, she has a good deal of pride and can be slightly self-centered. She does what she likes, when she likes, and nobody is going to stop her. It's her way of making up for the years of oppression, and it can get her in trouble at times. She's a little too haughty for her own good, but seems to understand that there are at least some boundaries. Some.
After awakening as a Noah, she's developed less of a propensity for living a double life as she used to. Having had more time as a human, she spends most of her time in her white form, and as the war hasn't started to kick off again yet, she sees little reason to be in her black form more than absolutely necessary, reverting to it only when the Earl is around. She doesn't enjoy killing as much as she used to; she still gets a sick thrill out of it, but having Allen in her life makes her regret it that much more every time she returns home. A part of her wants nothing to do with the Noah anymore, as she starts to value her human friends more than she ever did in her past life, but she sticks with it, a victim of her own hatred and unable to completely let go of her brother like that. She knows what'll happen if she betrays the family, and she doesn't want to risk it.
Her hobbies, besides gambling, include singing, dancing, napping, and doing coin and card tricks.
Personality Developments: Dressing room specific. Having come to the DR with her close friend Allen Walker, she's finding that she sticks to him a lot more than she used to back home. Being here and having him exposed to the Noah and the Exorcists breaks down a lot of inhibitions she had about getting close to him. She still doesn't want him to know anything about the Holy War, but having him dragged her means that she no long has a say in the matter.
Because of this, she finds herself getting a little more affectionate with him. There's no longer any reason for her not to, and part of her wants to get closer to him, if only to protect him. She doesn't know about his Innocence or his past life yet.
As well, because of the number of other Noah in the DR, she's found that she can utilize her black and white forms to her benefit. In her white form, she can get away with walking among the Exorcists, none of which she sees as her enemies, considering that they aren't from her world. As for the Noah, she can revert to her black form and get away amongst them, even if she doesn't feel any particular allegiance to them, again, seeing as they're not from her world.
History: Tyki was born to a loving French mother and a not-so-loving American father in the heart of New Orleans. Things were tolerable for a while-- until, of course, her parents died in a car accident when she was only four. By then, her elder brother Cyril was old enough to take care of the both of them off of the money that their parents had left behind.
That was when things got worse. Much worse.
While they didn't have a lot of money to spare, they had enough to live comfortably. It wasn't money that the suddenly-two-smaller household lacked. Instead, the deficiency came in her brother's treatment of her. He wasn't just strict on his younger sister, but down right cruel. Punishments for transgressions could be serious. He would often slap her for the smaller things, but go so far as locking her in the closet for hours at a time when she would misbehave. She learned from a young age when to bite her tongue and how to lie without getting caught.
And she learned from a young age how to hate.
That hate would grow and fester within her over the years, the hatred for her brother and the things he did to her, the things he taught her to fear-- his hand on her cheek, his fingers through her hair. She would bide her time through it all, though. She didn't dare report him to their social worker, and she always looked pristine. Another unfortunate side effect of learning to lie, she was able to convince any of the adults who might have pulled her away from him that there was absolutely nothing wrong. She pretended to be happy, pretended to be cared for.
Of course somewhere deep down she knew that Cyril wanted the best for her. He didn't know better, right? But as she grew older and realized the folly in this logic, she began to loathe him all the more. Of course, she couldn't get her rebellious urges out at home. Starting in high school, she began to feel more and more comfortable living as a boy. Cyril wouldn't allow her to wear anything but girl's clothes, so she would keep her boys clothes in her locker and change once she got to school. A late bloomer, she never grew the sort of feminine curves that would give away her gender, but most of her friends just regarded her as a tomboy. She started, slowly, to identify as male, though, and only associate with girls if she was calling them her girlfriend.
Most of this she hid from her brother. She was practiced at it by then, but what she didn't managed to get past him, she was still punished for, and in worse ways, as her age afforded her more pain tolerance than her childhood had.
She never let herself fall, though. His harsh words and harsher punishments took their toll, but instead of wearing down, she steeled herself against them and stayed as strong as she could. She became determined to leave him behind once she was old enough, the urge to rebel bubbled up inside of her.
Her chance came on her 18th birthday. Old enough to leave on her own, she made arrangements, set the plan in motion. She met him in the kitchen, a pair of scissors in her hands. But she didn't attack. Instead, she took the scissors to her hair, that he had insisted she keep, that she loathes so much as a symbol of everything that had happened between them. She took her ponytail and cut it off right then and there, then made to flee. She expected him to pursue, but instead, when she glanced over her shoulder, she only saw him smiling.
Why he smiled like that wouldn't become clear until years later.
After fleeing the house that she'd grown up in, she stayed with friends for a while, moving from couch to couch until she managed to get on her feet. She eventually got a job at a local electronics retailer, loathing it but needing the income, and started rooming with another friends who'd graduated two years earlier. She would have been content to take her life from there. She was away...she was free. She was free to dress as she wanted, eat what she wanted, do what she wanted. She was finally able to start living her life as a man, and having left all her clothes behind anyway, was able to start anew.
She was 20 when the transformation happened. She had been walking home from work one evening, listening to her discman, when a sharp pain ran across her forehead. She'd thought it was just going to be a particularly terrible headache, but when she raised her hand to her forehead, it came back with blood on it. By the time she stumbled into the hospital, the blood was running down her face and a row of seven cross-shaped wounds spread across her forehead. She didn't know what to do, or say; her head hurt, and suddenly there were new memories in her head, of another time and place, a past life, and the man she had once been. Thankfully it didn't take a genius to see what was wrong with her and she was admitted swiftly.
Since she could not provide a logical reason for those wounds to have just appeared-- she tried telling them it just happened, but she wasn't the first to try that trick-- and since she didn't care to identify an attacker who might have done something like that to her, she was forced to stay for twenty-four hour suicide watch. She resigned to it and allowed herself to be checked in for the night, he head bandaged and the wounds still aching. She thought a night would do her good, give her a chance to sort through all these strange thoughts, all these new recollections.
She didn't feel like she'd gone insane. But she couldn't think of any other reason these things would be coming to her now. Had she hit her head? But that wouldn't have cause such strange marks. She was left to believe that this was all real, somehow, as unbelievable as it was.
And then he appeared, a fat man with a strange and scary grin. It almost made her reconsider the notion that she had gone insane. But when her brother appeared next to him, she could feel nothing but fear. She was led from the hospital that night by the two of them, back to Atlanta, to where the Earl kept his base, to be debriefed on her life as a Noah.
She had to give the Earl credit-- he sorted through her memories in short order and helped things become much clearer. But she was loathe to see her brother again, and he seemed so smug about it that it made her blood boil all the more. That seemed to exasperate things. She was reintroduced to her powers, to choice, and to her Tease, which the Earl had kept over the years. And she was told that she could stay in Atlanta, or return to New Orleans.
But she'd never asked for any of this. She didn't want to be dragged into some war alongside her brother. She just wanted to live her life. In the interest of preserving it-- and still convinced it was all just a drug-induced delusion-- she opted to return to New Orleans. Of course she would be provided for. The chosen couldn't be seen living in poverty, after all, so when she returned home, she packed her bags and moved into well-furnished studio apartment on the good side of town.
It was a nice place, really, hand picked by the Earl himself, just for her, although it looked like someone else had seen to the decorating, thank god. One evening in the company of his garish attire had made her never want to see him again, if only for the assault on her retinas. Even better, the apartment lacked anything resembling closets. She liked that feature, really, but it made her wonder just a bit about how much this Earl knew about her life in this incarnation.
She didn't question it. She had money and she had freedom, and there wasn't a lot more that she could ask for. She quit her job and began bumming around. She took odd jobs here and there for the sake of keeping herself busy, and started attending classes at the community college for fun, and living was easy, except for the times when the Earl and her brother would check in on her.
As far as wars went, though, it was mild.
Her return to New Orleans turned out to be a twist of fate. Not too long afterwards, after the wounds had healed and she'd learned to switch between her white and black forms, the city came alive, just as it did every year on that day: Mardi Gras.
It was in the February of 1998. Feeling better since the transformation, and a little more confident in herself (a residual effect of the memories, she was sure) she couldn't help but attend a party. She'd lived in the city long enough that it would have been blasphemy for her to not go, and it was there that she ran into a boy who would go on to change her life.
At first, she didn't think much of him. He was quirky and a little cute in the way you'd consider a kid cute, but not that kind of person she'd find attractive. And yet something about him was magnetizing. Perhaps it was just the fact that she'd spilled his drink on him, and she'd felt obliged to take him home and let him get cleaned up, offering him a clean shirt.
She thought that would be the last she saw of him, but a few days later, she found herself feeling like she should call him up and see how he was doing. And she had, recently, been prone to giving into her own whims. Things went from there. She knew he was different right away. He was the first person to guess that she wasn't a man so quickly, or at least the first that she knew of. She found that she was strangely interested in befriending this boy, although he hadn't won her over quite so quickly.
[ to be continued... ]
The Earl's Spell: ...has been vastly overstated and understated to Bird over the course of her time as a Noah. She has been lead to believe that a natural part of being a Noah is that the earl as the final say over her life and death, a fact that has been used to keep her more or less in check over time. At the same time, the real spell that has been placed over her has kept her from remember her past life entirely. It has wiped all memory of Allen Walker from her mind, and has placed certain other blocks in place, including messing with her sense of Innocence. The intent in this is to allow her to get close to Allen and even some of the other Exorcists, and to then unleash her memories to increase her feelings of betrayal and to make her that much more angry, while simultaneously allowing the Earl and the rest of the Noah to "show her" how everything they've done has been "because they cared".
Appearance: tbd