- Origin of name; A nymph is a mythological creature originating from ancient Greek and Roman myths. There was quite a variety of nymphs- tree, earth, etc. But the mischievous water nymph happens to be the one in question. These nymphs had a reputation to reach up and pull innocent victims into the water, drowning them for fun...
A siren is also a mythological creature originating from ancient Greek and Roman myths. Sirens were said to wait upon treacherous rocks out at sea, luring sailors to their deaths with beautiful song. The song would enchant the sailors, making them want to leap to their deaths to be with the fair, water-y maidens.
Age; 18
Birthday; February 29, 1995
- Star zodiac; Pisces
Chinese zodiac; Snake
Birthstone; Amethyst
Theme Song; My Private Nation ~ Train
Bug Symbolizes; In almost every part of the world, dragonflies symbolizematurity, and depth of self/self awareness. It symbolizes change in self andperspective of self- the type of change that has its source in mental andemotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life. Thedragonfly's grace and agility in flight symbolizes poise and power only coming with age and maturity. The dragonfly and its iridescence symbolizes defeat of self-created illusions, the ability to think logically and focus- clear vision through the realities of life. Dragonflies also symbolize living in the now- the past is the past, and there's no reason to strive for the future, and, because of the size of dragonflies' eyes, they symbolize the opening of one's eyes, seeing past self-limitations.
Legends and myths; In European and Early American myths, children were told that if they misbehaved, a dragonfly would come and sew their eyes, ears, and moths shut, other myths warned that dragonflies and snakes had an alliance- allowing dragonflies to warn snakes of danger and raise them form the dead. In Swedish folklore, dragons had a reputation of picking out humans' eyes, and that they were used by the devil to weight peoples' souls... Not all myths were bad, many cultured, including the Swedish, believed the dragonfly to be a holy animal. In one Swedish legend, the dragonfly was a representative of the love goddess Freya. In Japan, the dragonfly is also a holy animal, one legend says that dragonfly presence guarantees victory in battle.
Personality;
|Lazy|
Nymph is super negligent and idle. She doesn't care about accomplishing anything, she has no inclination to work and no desire to do anything, honestly. She's unproductive and indolent; Nymph would much rather spend her time sleeping, or complaining about one thing or another.
As a result of her laziness, Nymph can be very... controlling. She somehow manages to con others into doing work for her and she gets away with just about anything. She's pretty sly and cunning, so watch out.
There are, of course, times when she gets off of her butt and does something. On this rare occurrence, she's determined, and nothing is going to bring her down. Anyone or anything who stands in her way is simply mowed over. Usually, when she accomplishes something, it's great and major, but Nymph just brushes it off of her shoulder and continues in her stubbourn ways.
|Rude|
With a sharp tongue, Nymph can disarm the wittiest with a sentence or two, and reduce the strongest to tears. Her words, for the most part, shouldn't be taken to heart. She is ill-mannered, discourteous, and insulting, making her rather unpleasant company. She has no desire to show kindness to another or that another could possibly be deserving of nice words from her. Nymph doesn't dream of another who deserves her praise nor her courtesy; she's not narcissistic, but is wrapped up in her own world...
If one were to woo her enough to get her attention and possibly even a complement, she's loyal, and genuinely kind. Complements, however, are still a rare occurrence and, because so, they are to be noted and taken to heart.
|Withdrawn|
Nymph is, to say the least, not particularly sociable. It has been established that she's not friendly, but not only that, she wants no company. As was mentioned, Nymph lives in her own little world, and has no wishes to join the real world. She's detached and remote, some call her unresponsive, and those in the world of science marvel at how she seems to have no reaction to outside stimuli. She's secluded, always has been, probably always will be.
Even when she decides to be social, Nymph has next-to-nothing to say, and often finds herself floating away from crowds. She's not anti-social, merely reserved. She's uncomfortable around a bunch of people, preferring to stick to the sidelines. She often finds herself eavesdropping as a result.
|Brilliant|
Looking past Nymph's many, many flaws, she's really quite intelligent. She not only has a sharp tongue, but an extremely perceptive mind. Rarely does a detail escape her notice. She has unbelievable and uncommon intellectual acuteness, and yet she thinks nothing of it. Her brain really is outstanding; she's logical, and has the capability to think and process to an especially high degree. Nymph is rational, reasonable, and resourceful...
|Lazy|
Nymph is super negligent and idle. She doesn't care about accomplishing anything, she has no inclination to work and no desire to do anything, honestly. She's unproductive and indolent; Nymph would much rather spend her time sleeping, or complaining about one thing or another.
As a result of her laziness, Nymph can be very... controlling. She somehow manages to con others into doing work for her and she gets away with just about anything. She's pretty sly and cunning, so watch out.
There are, of course, times when she gets off of her butt and does something. On this rare occurrence, she's determined, and nothing is going to bring her down. Anyone or anything who stands in her way is simply mowed over. Usually, when she accomplishes something, it's great and major, but Nymph just brushes it off of her shoulder and continues in her stubbourn ways.
|Rude|
With a sharp tongue, Nymph can disarm the wittiest with a sentence or two, and reduce the strongest to tears. Her words, for the most part, shouldn't be taken to heart. She is ill-mannered, discourteous, and insulting, making her rather unpleasant company. She has no desire to show kindness to another or that another could possibly be deserving of nice words from her. Nymph doesn't dream of another who deserves her praise nor her courtesy; she's not narcissistic, but is wrapped up in her own world...
If one were to woo her enough to get her attention and possibly even a complement, she's loyal, and genuinely kind. Complements, however, are still a rare occurrence and, because so, they are to be noted and taken to heart.
|Withdrawn|
Nymph is, to say the least, not particularly sociable. It has been established that she's not friendly, but not only that, she wants no company. As was mentioned, Nymph lives in her own little world, and has no wishes to join the real world. She's detached and remote, some call her unresponsive, and those in the world of science marvel at how she seems to have no reaction to outside stimuli. She's secluded, always has been, probably always will be.
Even when she decides to be social, Nymph has next-to-nothing to say, and often finds herself floating away from crowds. She's not anti-social, merely reserved. She's uncomfortable around a bunch of people, preferring to stick to the sidelines. She often finds herself eavesdropping as a result.
|Brilliant|
Looking past Nymph's many, many flaws, she's really quite intelligent. She not only has a sharp tongue, but an extremely perceptive mind. Rarely does a detail escape her notice. She has unbelievable and uncommon intellectual acuteness, and yet she thinks nothing of it. Her brain really is outstanding; she's logical, and has the capability to think and process to an especially high degree. Nymph is rational, reasonable, and resourceful...
Quirks + Habits;
~Nymph is a pescetarian, meaning she won't
eat meat, but will eat fish. This is purely because
she doesn't like the way meat tastes, not because of
animal slaughter. It also brings back memories
of her father, memories she'd much rather steer clear
of.
~Nymph has the tendency to buzz her wings, and quite
often at that. She doesn't flip them, or harrumph and
flap them, she buzzes them, like a wet bee trying to
take off. This isn't involuntary, she does it on purpose-
sometimes to get the air around her circulating, but
mostly just for the fun of it.
~Nymph sings. And not very well at all. It's out-of-tune
and screechy, but Nymph, being Nymph Syren, doesn't
take the truth that she can't sing and gets angry with
whoever says she sounds terrible.
Dreams + Fears;
~Nymph has Gelotophobia, the fear of being
laughed at. This is why she's so commanding and
demanding. She wants to feel superior and import-
ant, being laughed at and made fun of is the stuff
of her nightmares.
~Nymph dreams of one day being respected by
all, without having to assert herself in order to get
someone to merely listen to her. She wants people
to recognize her as a normal being, not a freak of
nature and she wants them to respect her, and pay
attention to her.
~Nymph also dreams of going back in time and fix-
ing herself. Fixing her attitude and not being so
rude to everyone. She wants to go back and make
friends and peace and have a social life. Unfortun-
atey, her pride stops her from thinking about this
too much.
History;
[Baby]
A shrill wail pierced the night, followed by footsteps clomping across the wooden floors of a small shack. Two parents pulled open the door to their only daughter’s room. A baby cried, swathed in cotton blankets and comforted by a sort of bed. The bed was more like a large, yet luxurious pillow, fluffed around the crying baby. The room had a simple chest, probably filled with some simple clothes, and a few toys were strewn across the floor. The baby wiggled in her wrappings, parents, hand-in-hand, walked forward. Both knelt down and one leaned forward to pick the girl up.
The girl stared up into their faces, finding herself staring into the face of two mothers who had adopted her the night before. The mothers stared down at the baby, smiling happily at their beautiful daughter. A sweet lullaby filled the room, the baby swayed back and forth in her mother’s arms. The baby was lucky, her parents sung like sirens, pulling her back into the embrace of sleep.
When the baby was snoring once more, mothers finished the song, and set the baby back down, she nested back into her cloud-like bed. Parents each kissed the child’s forehead, before departing the peaceful atmosphere of the room.
“What should we name her?” A whisper asked as the door shut silently. The recipient of the whisper wrinkled her brow,
“Syren.” Came the hushed reply, mothers turned back to the door, peering into the room. They met each-other’s eyes, and came to a silent agreement in name choice. Without knowing it, the lullabies they had sang to the child, and the lullabies their own mothers had sang to them, and the lullabies their grandmothers had sang to their mothers had sparked their imagination. The pull of sleep as a result of music, like the pull of waves out to sea.
The rest of the night passed without another interruption…
Dawn rose over the valley, burning away the silent peace and bringing forth the rise of day. The hills turned golden as liquid light seeped over them, flooding into the rest of the valley. The light filtered through a simple window, filling a simple room with light. A baby stirred, quietly opening her eyes and laying in the silence. The room ever brightened, the baby watched in wonder, blue eyes wide and thumb being sucked on.
The parents entered to room again, just like the previous night. Their baby looked at them with wide, awestruck eyes. Mothers smiled,
“Hello Syren,” One of them whispered, walking forward and scooping the child up. She emitted a gurgle, sucking on her thumb. Syren’s other mother walked up from behind, embracing the two.
“Look at her, peering up at us,”
“Like a nymph looking at humans through the water,”
Their eyes met once more, and the baby let out a gurgle.
Her Name Was Nymph Syren.
And as the happy family stood together, embracing each-other, a small Russian village came alive.
[Child]
A little girl jumped on a stone then hopped to another, and skipped to the next. Her feet landed solidly on each, unwavering and steady. Yet this little girl had no company he was… different. The other children of the village danced in the river and sang nursery rhymes with each-other, chased each-other, splashed each-other, yet they stayed away from this girl. She wanted no company.
Dragonflies buzzed around her head, and when she held out her arm, one or two would alight on her fingertips. She’d giggle every time and flick her wrist, sending them buzzing off and flitting about again. The other children didn’t understand, they wouldn’t. Most children her age had substantial, growing webbed wings, strong and muscular. When she spread her wings, light filtered through them, fragile, held by thin membranes. Hers buzzed quickly giving her flight speed and agility, yet they were weak, ready to tear apart at any moment.
A dragonfly flitted by, ticking her nose. Nymph giggled, slipping and falling into the shallow stream. She only laughed harder, ripples wavered on the water, before continuing in their path. Wet, she got up, crawled out of the river and lied on her back, peering up at the sky, the warm, morning sun drying her off from the coldness of the stream. Dragonflies continues to flit about above her face, and children played down the way. She looked over at them jealously, but none felt what she did, she felt… Content with the world. Eye eyes closed softly, a lullaby that her mothers had once sang to her filled her head, and lulled her to sleep.
Nymph fluttered awake as the afternoon sun rose high in the sky. She was warm and dry, comfortable in the river-side grasses. She rubbed her eyes, and rolled onto her stomach, yawning. The children who had been playing nearby earlier had moved off, leaving only Nymph and her dragonfly company.
Holding out her hand, Nymph let a dragonfly land on her fingers, slowly she brought it closer to her face, until she could see the veins in its wings. She stared at it in wonder, until it flipped its wings and flew off, and she whispered something…
The dragonflies scattered as a lesbian couple ran to their daughter. One woman scooped her up,
“Nymph, Nymph darling… Ohh…” She sobbed, hugging the child,
“Mummy?” She asked, confused.
“Yes baby girl, we’re here… It’s us…”
“Why…” But before the sentence was completed, they were moving. Mothers’ feet splashed through the cold river, and then shot away from the village, their home. In the distance, pillars of smoke rose in the sky, reaching their fingers up to the sun, to taint the clouds. Nymph screamed, clinging to her mother. Terror and horror, fear and sadness, everything seeped into her at once and she began to cry.
…
The panic subsided long after Nymph had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms. Eventually the adrenaline wore off, eventually they slowed down to an easy walk, and eventually, a bleary-eyed girl lifted her head off of her mother’s shoulder, and yawned.
“Hello sleepy-head,” Said a smiling woman.
“Mummy, what happened?”
And the mothers told the child no lies. They told her of how a bomb went off in the market, shattering everything nearby, and almost immediately after that, hundreds of people swarmed in, slaughtering people left, right, and center, burning everything they touched. Nymph was spared no details, necks were snapped, hearts were stabbed, and people were split open.
Yet no tears fell down Nymphs cheeks. Her family was fine. That’s all that mattered. She presented another question;
“Where are we going?”
“We’re moving to England, where we’re from.”
[Teen]
A two story brick house stood tucked away in a little town. A house where dragonflies floated around the air, lazily buzzing their wins and flitting above a pond I the back garden. A little town where everyone knew everyone else by name, and where a strange little girl spent the remainder of her childhood. A she grew up, she often reflected on her times growing up by the river, not only had she looked funny, but she sounded funny as well, and as her years went on she began to define geography and cultures in her head, without any help, because of the curiosity, the "why?" burning inside of her. Soon enough, her mind had developed to the point where it was superior than her teachers'. In her brain she taught herself street smarts, school smarts, sports smart, basically any smarts there were, she knew.
But as a side effect of her gift, she found herself growing away from people, knowing that she was smarter than the lot of them, and so she was superior. This superiority festered inside her, she was better and she knew it. She began to scorn people, looking down on them, the same way the village children had looked down on her. Little did she know, her attitude towards others had been stirred and spurred on by the hate she had felt as a child. Only her mothers felt the warm, loving good side that Nymph had, only her mothers, in Nymph's eyes, deserved that.
Only her mothers, who were proud of their mutated daughter. They cared not for the mutated wings that grew in, they cared not that she was the next great mind, they cared only that she was theirs and she was alive. And they loved her.
Which is why the end was such a shame.
The sun lifted over the horizon one morning, and two cold figures laid next to each other in bed, hand in hand. They had quietly faded from existence, two hearts that had once beat as one, now stopped as one.
A seventeen-year-old Nymph crept into the bed room, opening the window to the dragonflies, so that her parents could see what antics they were up to this morning. No good morning followed, Nymph turned around, and laid eyes upon her still mothers. Dead. Not a single tear dripped from her eyes, she simply bowed her head, mumbled a prayer, and left. A note stuck to the front door with some words neatly written on the paper.
Some dragonflies hovered by it, some followed her, others seemed to mourn with Nymph, but she headed for the hills. The hills where she had so often sat, staring out to the English beauty around her, where dragonflies tickled her nose and reminded her of the good old days.
And there she remained, away from the inferior society, until she met someone... until she met him....
But that brings us to the present and the future, both of which shall play out in due time.
How she's treated;
Nymph was treated very well by her parents, she was spoiled even. Her parents were protective, but not over-protective at all. They accepted Nymph for who she was, and were proud to call her their daughter.
By others, however, Nymph was either degraded or ignored. The people were afraid of her, almost. Her association with dragonflies and her natural-born odd wings irked them, driving them away. The other little children stayed away, hating her for her difference, and as she grew up and began to shun others for being inferior, the people developed more reasons to stay away from the rude little girl.
Of course one other person ever treated her well, like her parents, but he brings us to the future of Nymph's life.
Art credits;
The very, very top piece is by me
The headshot, by the info about dragonflies, is by Little
The second, above the personality, is by me
The third, underneath the personality, before the history is by Shannon
After the history is by Gherit
After the 'how she's treated' is by lunarsky
Thank you all who helped me <333
By rated R <3
[Baby]
A shrill wail pierced the night, followed by footsteps clomping across the wooden floors of a small shack. Two parents pulled open the door to their only daughter’s room. A baby cried, swathed in cotton blankets and comforted by a sort of bed. The bed was more like a large, yet luxurious pillow, fluffed around the crying baby. The room had a simple chest, probably filled with some simple clothes, and a few toys were strewn across the floor. The baby wiggled in her wrappings, parents, hand-in-hand, walked forward. Both knelt down and one leaned forward to pick the girl up.
The girl stared up into their faces, finding herself staring into the face of two mothers who had adopted her the night before. The mothers stared down at the baby, smiling happily at their beautiful daughter. A sweet lullaby filled the room, the baby swayed back and forth in her mother’s arms. The baby was lucky, her parents sung like sirens, pulling her back into the embrace of sleep.
When the baby was snoring once more, mothers finished the song, and set the baby back down, she nested back into her cloud-like bed. Parents each kissed the child’s forehead, before departing the peaceful atmosphere of the room.
“What should we name her?” A whisper asked as the door shut silently. The recipient of the whisper wrinkled her brow,
“Syren.” Came the hushed reply, mothers turned back to the door, peering into the room. They met each-other’s eyes, and came to a silent agreement in name choice. Without knowing it, the lullabies they had sang to the child, and the lullabies their own mothers had sang to them, and the lullabies their grandmothers had sang to their mothers had sparked their imagination. The pull of sleep as a result of music, like the pull of waves out to sea.
The rest of the night passed without another interruption…
Dawn rose over the valley, burning away the silent peace and bringing forth the rise of day. The hills turned golden as liquid light seeped over them, flooding into the rest of the valley. The light filtered through a simple window, filling a simple room with light. A baby stirred, quietly opening her eyes and laying in the silence. The room ever brightened, the baby watched in wonder, blue eyes wide and thumb being sucked on.
The parents entered to room again, just like the previous night. Their baby looked at them with wide, awestruck eyes. Mothers smiled,
“Hello Syren,” One of them whispered, walking forward and scooping the child up. She emitted a gurgle, sucking on her thumb. Syren’s other mother walked up from behind, embracing the two.
“Look at her, peering up at us,”
“Like a nymph looking at humans through the water,”
Their eyes met once more, and the baby let out a gurgle.
Her Name Was Nymph Syren.
And as the happy family stood together, embracing each-other, a small Russian village came alive.
[Child]
A little girl jumped on a stone then hopped to another, and skipped to the next. Her feet landed solidly on each, unwavering and steady. Yet this little girl had no company he was… different. The other children of the village danced in the river and sang nursery rhymes with each-other, chased each-other, splashed each-other, yet they stayed away from this girl. She wanted no company.
Dragonflies buzzed around her head, and when she held out her arm, one or two would alight on her fingertips. She’d giggle every time and flick her wrist, sending them buzzing off and flitting about again. The other children didn’t understand, they wouldn’t. Most children her age had substantial, growing webbed wings, strong and muscular. When she spread her wings, light filtered through them, fragile, held by thin membranes. Hers buzzed quickly giving her flight speed and agility, yet they were weak, ready to tear apart at any moment.
A dragonfly flitted by, ticking her nose. Nymph giggled, slipping and falling into the shallow stream. She only laughed harder, ripples wavered on the water, before continuing in their path. Wet, she got up, crawled out of the river and lied on her back, peering up at the sky, the warm, morning sun drying her off from the coldness of the stream. Dragonflies continues to flit about above her face, and children played down the way. She looked over at them jealously, but none felt what she did, she felt… Content with the world. Eye eyes closed softly, a lullaby that her mothers had once sang to her filled her head, and lulled her to sleep.
Nymph fluttered awake as the afternoon sun rose high in the sky. She was warm and dry, comfortable in the river-side grasses. She rubbed her eyes, and rolled onto her stomach, yawning. The children who had been playing nearby earlier had moved off, leaving only Nymph and her dragonfly company.
Holding out her hand, Nymph let a dragonfly land on her fingers, slowly she brought it closer to her face, until she could see the veins in its wings. She stared at it in wonder, until it flipped its wings and flew off, and she whispered something…
The dragonflies scattered as a lesbian couple ran to their daughter. One woman scooped her up,
“Nymph, Nymph darling… Ohh…” She sobbed, hugging the child,
“Mummy?” She asked, confused.
“Yes baby girl, we’re here… It’s us…”
“Why…” But before the sentence was completed, they were moving. Mothers’ feet splashed through the cold river, and then shot away from the village, their home. In the distance, pillars of smoke rose in the sky, reaching their fingers up to the sun, to taint the clouds. Nymph screamed, clinging to her mother. Terror and horror, fear and sadness, everything seeped into her at once and she began to cry.
…
The panic subsided long after Nymph had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms. Eventually the adrenaline wore off, eventually they slowed down to an easy walk, and eventually, a bleary-eyed girl lifted her head off of her mother’s shoulder, and yawned.
“Hello sleepy-head,” Said a smiling woman.
“Mummy, what happened?”
And the mothers told the child no lies. They told her of how a bomb went off in the market, shattering everything nearby, and almost immediately after that, hundreds of people swarmed in, slaughtering people left, right, and center, burning everything they touched. Nymph was spared no details, necks were snapped, hearts were stabbed, and people were split open.
Yet no tears fell down Nymphs cheeks. Her family was fine. That’s all that mattered. She presented another question;
“Where are we going?”
“We’re moving to England, where we’re from.”
[Teen]
A two story brick house stood tucked away in a little town. A house where dragonflies floated around the air, lazily buzzing their wins and flitting above a pond I the back garden. A little town where everyone knew everyone else by name, and where a strange little girl spent the remainder of her childhood. A she grew up, she often reflected on her times growing up by the river, not only had she looked funny, but she sounded funny as well, and as her years went on she began to define geography and cultures in her head, without any help, because of the curiosity, the "why?" burning inside of her. Soon enough, her mind had developed to the point where it was superior than her teachers'. In her brain she taught herself street smarts, school smarts, sports smart, basically any smarts there were, she knew.
But as a side effect of her gift, she found herself growing away from people, knowing that she was smarter than the lot of them, and so she was superior. This superiority festered inside her, she was better and she knew it. She began to scorn people, looking down on them, the same way the village children had looked down on her. Little did she know, her attitude towards others had been stirred and spurred on by the hate she had felt as a child. Only her mothers felt the warm, loving good side that Nymph had, only her mothers, in Nymph's eyes, deserved that.
Only her mothers, who were proud of their mutated daughter. They cared not for the mutated wings that grew in, they cared not that she was the next great mind, they cared only that she was theirs and she was alive. And they loved her.
Which is why the end was such a shame.
The sun lifted over the horizon one morning, and two cold figures laid next to each other in bed, hand in hand. They had quietly faded from existence, two hearts that had once beat as one, now stopped as one.
A seventeen-year-old Nymph crept into the bed room, opening the window to the dragonflies, so that her parents could see what antics they were up to this morning. No good morning followed, Nymph turned around, and laid eyes upon her still mothers. Dead. Not a single tear dripped from her eyes, she simply bowed her head, mumbled a prayer, and left. A note stuck to the front door with some words neatly written on the paper.
Some dragonflies hovered by it, some followed her, others seemed to mourn with Nymph, but she headed for the hills. The hills where she had so often sat, staring out to the English beauty around her, where dragonflies tickled her nose and reminded her of the good old days.
And there she remained, away from the inferior society, until she met someone... until she met him....
But that brings us to the present and the future, both of which shall play out in due time.
How she's treated;
Nymph was treated very well by her parents, she was spoiled even. Her parents were protective, but not over-protective at all. They accepted Nymph for who she was, and were proud to call her their daughter.
By others, however, Nymph was either degraded or ignored. The people were afraid of her, almost. Her association with dragonflies and her natural-born odd wings irked them, driving them away. The other little children stayed away, hating her for her difference, and as she grew up and began to shun others for being inferior, the people developed more reasons to stay away from the rude little girl.
Of course one other person ever treated her well, like her parents, but he brings us to the future of Nymph's life.
Art credits;
The very, very top piece is by me
The headshot, by the info about dragonflies, is by Little
The second, above the personality, is by me
The third, underneath the personality, before the history is by Shannon
After the history is by Gherit
After the 'how she's treated' is by lunarsky
Thank you all who helped me <333
By rated R <3
:origin()/pre00/71e6/th/pre/f/2017/265/f/e/b356ca00162e6bc0b015b3a8511620ed_db7l9id_by_orchidstory-dbo8bd5.png)
