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 Nakhti Sayyid

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Join date : 2012-03-24

PostSubject: Nakhti Sayyid   Sat May 12, 2012 7:36 pm





NAME :
Nakhti Sayyid

AGE :
4,618 years old

RACE :
Vampire

ABILITIES :
With women only, Nakhti's touch can make a woman fall in lust with him, however he must touch them skin-to-skin. If the person knows about his ability it has a lower success rate. Vampires also have a lower susceptibility to Nakhti’s power.

WEAKNESSES :
`Ayame
`Arrogance
`Stubborn
`Self-centered
`Opinionated
`Temper

STRENGTHS :
`Confidence
`Quick witted
`Silver tongued
`Opinionated
`Making women fall in love with him
`Making business deals
`Debating (sometimes to the point of arguing)
`Making money


PERSONALITY :
As the former prince of Egypt, Nakhti is self-centered and very used to getting what he wants when he wants it. While he's not evil and definitely not a saint, he does commit crimes of the flesh such as adultery, murder, and occasional theft but Nakhti prefers to own his possessions through money he makes on his own. He is very full of himself and getting his way is very important to him. That is probably one of the reasons he hasn’t given up on finding Ayame. Nakhti doesn’t love many things in this world—Ayame being one of them—but he does have a fascination with money. He likes to have it on him and use it as he best sees fit. As he insists on using everything—as he best sees fit.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION :
(See photo above)
Nakhti has tanned skin and dark curling hair that he keeps cut relatively short. He is never seen in anything other than a suit unless he's naked.

FAMILY MEMBERS:
Pharaoh - Father *
Aza - Mother
Kareem - second eldest brother
Dabir - third eldest brother
Tarek - fourth eldest brother
Sayyid - eldest son
Nakhti - second son
Gadi - third son
Lela - eldest daughter
Eisa - fourth son
Cantara - second daughter
Adara - third daughter
Haroun - fifth son
Batula – fourth daughter
Aza – fifth daughter
Abdul – sixth son
Jarrah – seventh son
Widad – sixth daughter
Fatin – seventh daughter
Dawud – eighth son
Ibrahim – ninth son
Lufti – tenth son
Omaira – eighth daughter
Qaseem – eleventh son
Muhammed – twelfth son
Ra'id – thirteenth son
Najib – fourteenth son
Caliana – ninth daughter
Mahir – fifteenth son
Tariq – sixteenth son
Kateb – seventeenth son
Rasheed – eighteenth son
Jamiel – nineteenth son
Saqr – twentieth son
Borak – twenty-first son
Ramy – twenty-second son
Akilah – tenth daughter
Zia – eleventh daughter
Yasir – twenty-third son
Omar – twenty-fourth son

NOTABLE SIGNIFICANT OTHERS:
Ayame Haruko - Lover



THE HISTORY
Nakhti was born in ancient Egypt between 2589 and 2566 BC/BCE. His father was the Pharaoh--but even so Nakhti was never permitted to refer to him as anything other than 'Pharaoh'; in fact, Nakhti didn't even know the name of his own father. He certainly hadn't known that his dad was a vampire. The Pharaoh considered himself connected to the great Egyptian god RA who was god of the sun and the supreme judge. The Pharaoh himself did not have a special ability though, however, his eldest son would receive one.

As a young boy, Nakhti had had two older siblings but both had died before Nakhti was seven which made Nakhti next in line for the throne. His elder siblings were not the only ones who died; there were also three daughters of his father whom also perished along with two of his sons. However Nakhti knew his father had more children than he hadn’t even met and there were probably more that had died. Aza, Nakhti's mother, had had only Nakhti by the Pharaoh as the Pharaoh took on many wives and even mistresses. Being the eldest of his father’s living children, it was demanded that Nakhti always be around the Pharaoh. Nakhti had no problems with this. He loved the attention, it made him feel important.

At the age of thirteen, his father told him it was about time he had his own servants. Nakhti was so excited; he sat with his father—who looked bored—with bright, enthusiastic eyes as the girls came forward in a single file line he leaned back like his father and tried to wear the same bored expression. The girls all had different colored skin, one a taupe, another a dark cocoa, yet another was the color of papyrus reeds, one on the end was the same warm tan-orange color as Nakhti himself, and one dead centered was a creamy yellow color. He took an extra moment to eye this one—they were certainly all beautiful and all about his age but he had never seen anyone like her before. With her pale, pale skin—yet it was not pale in the same way his father’s was—and her golden hair, and her bluish eyes… she frightened him. Nakhti wondered if she wasn’t a witch—but a pretty witch, could witches be pretty? He stole a glance to his father and was determined not to show him his fear, and after all, it wasn’t written in stone that the Pharaoh would pick her anyway. This could be the last time he saw her. The Pharaoh extended a long, pale finger wordlessly and the first servant he chose was, naturally, the pretty witch. Nakhti sat further down in his seat. His eyes followed the Pharaoh’s finger taking a moment to look at all his new servant girls and Nakhti took solace in that. As the girls turned away, Nakhti eyed the blonde witch and silently dared her to turn around if she were a witch. To his shocked surprise, she did. They shared a brief moment’s eye contact before she left the room.

In the many years his slaves serviced him, he would often send the blonde witch away to do chores out of his sight. Secretly though, he would ask the older servants about her—sometimes even the young ones but he often thought they told him things they thought he wanted to hear. Especially when they didn’t know the answers; so he trusted the older servants. It was five years with her before he overcame his childish idea of having a witch employed to him and a little by little in the years previous he had allowed her to be in the same room as he more and more. Yet he still hadn’t yet spoken to her—he wondered if he should or if it would have been beneath him.

The Pharaoh told his son to "spread his seed" at the young age of fifteen and being Nakhti wasn't ever the type to have to be told anything twice—especially not by his father—he did. Little did the Pharaoh know, Nakhti hadn't needed to be told: Nakhti had had a total of twenty-nine children—each with a different mother—before he turned eighteen.

At the age of twenty, Nakhti discovered that his father planned to have him leave his home and go off to study. Though he was old enough to be ready for such a journey, Nakhti was fearful. He’d never been away from the palace. Ever. What laid beyond was a complete mystery to him and what was more was that he was order to go by himself—completely alone. He swallowed before he realized the servant he had once thought was a witch stood in his quarters carrying a bundle of clothes. If there was ever a time to talk to her certainly it had been before now but Nakhti figured he’d have no other chance. After all, he didn’t know what would happen to him on this journey.
“Ayame. Is it?” The name sounded strange on his tongue, it was unlike any name he’d heard before and Nakhti could still remember when he had first heard it. It was one of the questions he had had for the older servants. ‘Uh-ya-may.’ Strange indeed.
“My lord.” Ayame gave a brief nod and Nakhti knew he’d said it correctly.
“Come. I want to ask you something.” He beckoned for her with the fingers of his right hand. As she came up toward him, slowly and cautiously, she knelt in front of him. Her eyes never flicking up once. “How many years?”
“14 years of age, my lord” She responded, keeping her head down. Nakhti frowned, he would have liked to see those pretty and strange eyes once before he left. However he had never been this close to her before and he could therefore see all the golden threads that wove together to make her yellow hat of hair. He reached out to pick up a lock of it out of interest—and also to sneak a look at her face.
“Such an unusual color.” He remembered once thinking this color being the color of a witch. He almost chuckled at that, it seemed so silly now. “Tell me Ayame, what would you do, if you were given a great opportunity? A great gift that would change your life?” He had no idea what he was talking about. Nakhti just wanted the chance to talk to her and perhaps be granted some comfort. Ayame’s eyes finally looked up to meet his, but quickly darted back down to the floor. Nakhti couldn’t help but feel a pulse of victory in his veins.
“My lord, I suppose…I would feel very honored to receive such a gift.”
Nakhti released her hair and stood up straight. “I suppose one would feel that way.” He murmured as more of a reflection than to Ayame. Well there he had it right there. He should be feeling grateful for his father’s gift of knowledge instead of fearful. He sat in this thought for a moment before snapping back to reality just long enough to dismiss Ayame.

However shortly after arriving, Nakhti found he was not going on a journey to study. The man who was to tutor him looked not unlike his father, but at the same time he looked completely different: he had on a long sleeveless robe which he wore open over a short linen skirt; something about him was just... perfect. The man had the same color of skin that the Pharaoh had and the same red eyes. However this man was much frailer looking than Nakhti’s father and he wasn’t quite as tall; his hair was cropped very short to his head and he didn’t stand with them same regal posture of his Pharaoh—which he shouldn’t have anyway. His new mentor explained to him that as a sort of coming of age ceremony he would be changed into an immortal being as was his father before him and his father before him and… Nakhti soon grew bored of listening. His new mentor caught his attention yet again, “There is no time to waste.” Nakhti look at him as if he’d grown another head. He was the heir to the kingdom, he would have the final say as to when he was ”changed”; not to mention he’d only just arrived, it was dark and cold, and Nakhti was tired from the long ride. But the mentor would have none of it. He had strict orders from Nakhti’s father.

Inside the mentor’s tent incense was burning as were candles. The tent was surprisingly spacious but Nakhti soon learned that the tent was only a temporary lodging. Against the west wall of the tent was a wide bed well furnished with pillows and soft looking linens and towels—this was obviously where he would be sleeping. Nakhti found it odd though, that there was no place for his mentor to sleep to which his mentor responded that they would be far too busy to sleep. As they moved further into the tent Nakhti noticed instruments and ingredients for some type a ritual—Nakhti quickly put two and two together and realized all this was for him.

He’d never been in so much pain in his life.

For three years he trained with the mentor he began to know as Zahir; he was taught how to fight and conceal what he was—after all they couldn’t have mere mortals knowing what they were, they wouldn’t understand. Zahir also began to teach him to control his bloodlust, he explained that an immortal could turn monster if they didn’t conquer that thirst. Zahir also explained that Nakhti could no longer have his way with mortal women unless he planned feed on them and later kill them. This was because a mortal woman could not bear the seed of an immortal being and if the mistake was made to leave her to live with child their secret would have been out due to the grotesque and painful pregnancy that would later lead to the death of both the mother and baby.

And before Nakhti knew it his three years with Zahir were through.

The tradition was that when the prince returned he would be trained by his own father, the Pharaoh, until it was time for the son to take the throne. After the current Pharaoh had been in power for about twenty years and his son was ready to take over he would kill his own father—as was part of the tradition—and the process would start again.

However,
When Nakhti returned he had a special talent: to make women fall in love with him with nothing more than a touch. He was then considered by the people of Egypt to have been a reincarnation or blessed, if you will, by the goddess Hathor.

These new compliments and new lifestyle fueled Nakhti. He felt empowered, like he could have anything or anyone he wanted--and he could--but he could before as well. No one could refuse the desires of the prince. And perhaps it was this new found empowerment that brought Nakhti to venture to dabble in the ways of love.

There was just something about Ayame that Nakhti coveted and he couldn't possibly put such a thing into words. There was just something about her and it wasn't that she was beautiful--well, it wasn't just that she was beautiful. It was in they way they talked to one another--nearly--freely. The way she blushed. The way she made him smile: it made something grow within him. Like he had swallowed a grape whole with the seed still within it and it was beginning to grow in his stomach. But Ayame was his servant and a love between them would have been forbidden.

Though that made the romance even more desirable.

Driven by a need for his feelings to be mutual, called on Ayame late into the night with all urgency. Calling on Ayame at any point in the day wasn't uncommon, they were often seen together as Nakhti had her wait on him frequently. Tonight she came to him out of breath--he had called on her 'urgently'--as soon as she announced herself Nakhti got straight to the point and blurted out what was on his mind:
"Please call me Nakhti."
Well, at least a part of it anyway.
Standing in the opposite corner of the room, he eyed her as she stood in the doorway blushing crimson.
"My... Lord?"
He laughed and crossed to the middle of the room--stopping at the edge of the bed--and turned to her. "Please, don’t be embarrassed. I ask you to call me by my name, Ayame.”
“Yes Nakhti.” She whispered.
That whisper had him wanting to scoop her up in his arms and squeeze her tightly--but he would restrain himself. For now. Nakhti sat down on the edge of the bed instead doing as he would have wanted. “That’s better. Now come sit by me.” Ayame did as she was told and Nakhti held in a breath. Not because of how she smelt--he was used to that by now--but because of what he wanted so badly was to have her close and it was taking quite a bit of his willpower to not touch her. He worked on thinking of something to say but he gave them a couple of minutes to just sit there without words. His head turned to her and he looked at all of her before speaking with a bit of a cocky grin on his face, “You have grown more beautiful in these years that I’ve been away, Ayame. How is it possible?”
Despite his smile, his words were frank. Nakhti was in genuine wonder. Ayame proceeded to turn bright red.
“My lord--Nakhti, I thank you for your generous words.” She turned to him and all of a sudden Nakhti couldn't keep himself from doing as he pleased. As soon as she had faced him and he'd seen the full force of those eyes, that face--even if just for a moment. That was all the vampire needed. His lips were on hers. He heard her gasp and let her pull away. “Don’t be frightened.” He was very close to her now. His eyes warm and dark--red. His voice was low, quiet--heavy.“Come here.” He reached out a hand and Ayame came to it. Nakhti's ability was already pulsing through him like blood once did; when she came into contact with his outstretched hand she really had no choice but to feel toward him what he already did for her.

Over time though he slowly decreased his usage of the ability and she began to fall in love with him without his aid. It occurred to Nakhti that Ayame would eventually die where Nakhti could go on to live forever without aging. He was being selfish when he decided that she needed to remain with him for all eternity.
“I love you, Ayame.” Nakhti had told her this before but never with saddness in his eyes.
“And I you.” There was a smile in her voice.
“Do you? Do you truly?” His eyes came up to hers now.
Her fingers came up to touch his face. “Why do you doubt me?”
Nakhti couldn't say because he had been deluding her with this ability he possessed. Instead he wrapped his fingers around her hand and drew it to his mouth. He kissed the tips of her fingers and his gaze remained there for a moment. “I don’t doubt you my love. Only..." His ochre irises came to her bluish ones."Would you spend forever with me if you could?” Nakhti knew what he wanted to do but he wouldn't do it unless she agreed. Even if she didn't know the terms.
“I’d spend eternity with you if it only were possible.”
Nakhti spoke quickly, almost excitedly, desparate for her to understand. “What if it were? What if you and I could live together forever?”
Ayame laughed and kissed his mouth with a grin but Nakhti wasn't full invested in the kiss. He was too anxious for her answer. She noticed that he was serious when she pulled away. “My lord, such things are not possible.”
Nakhti gave his lower lip a lick and once again spoke with haste, "But they are! I myself am an immortal!” He would have said anything just to get Ayame to understand; he was all but blurting out his family's secret. Suddenly Ayame looked alarmed and backed away from him.
“Listen to me please! Have you ever wondered why my father hasn’t aged a day? Have you ever wondered why he never grows ill? Why his skin and my skin are pale white and cold even though the days are hot?” He was sitting still on the edge of his bed but he leaned forward as he spoke. Nakhti did not rise and go to her because he was afraid Ayame would come to fear him if he did and run. “I can make you an immortal. Together we can live forever and never be apart! Please, Ayame!” There was a long pause between them and Nakhti swore that if he had had a beating heart it would have thundered out the seconds.
Finally she spoke, “I promised I would spend eternity with you, if I could.”
A full-bodied smile of relief overtook his mouth and he rose--no longer worried that he would frighten her. He kissed her sweetly after closing the distance between them. “It will be painful, but I’ll be here.” He searched her eyes and when he could take it no longer he at first kissed her neck--his eyes sqeezed shut--and then he bit her. The only thing that kept him from killing her, draining her completely, was his love for her; as long as he remembered that, she would be safe. He had to hide her away and bring humans to her in order to keep her alive and keep the Pharaoh from discovering what he had done.

The sudden decrease in servants alarmed the Pharaoh and as he was looking for the answer to where his slaves had gone he came upon Ayame while she was feeding. The Pharaoh was outraged; he fervently reprimanded his son telling him that he did not have permission from the gods to create another immortal being. The Pharaoh insisted the only thing left to do was to destroy her. Nakhti fought and killed his father but in the struggle the palace was destroyed: oil lamps fell among the rich fabrics and tapestries and soon it was all set it ablaze.

Nakhti told Ayame to swim away, across the Nile, because she was not strong enough to resist the temptation of blood that filled the air and Nakhti needed to try to restore order to his panic stricken kingdom. And so she did—she swam—and she waited for Nakhti, but he didn't come. She knew he was trying to restore his city but there was so much screaming, so much havoc, and... so much blood. Nakhti couldn't contain himself; many people of his city were slaughtered by his own hand. The rich, the poor, the slaves, the workers, the class didn’t matter—all Nakhti could smell was the sweetness of blood. And soon his whole kingdom was bathed red. Those who survived his rampage would think instead of being the god Hathor, that he was really blessed by Osiris—god of the dead—or Seth, god of chaos, in disguise. Others would say it was punishment on those who mocked and disrespected the gods and that it was RA sending down his judgment on the people.

There was only one choice for Nakhti, and that was to leave his kingdom without any kind of aid. He was confident they would find a new way or running things without immortals in charge. But before they could do that Nakhti was going to have to get out—the last vampire would have to get out. At which point it occurred to Nakhti he was not the last immortal. There was still the one who had changed him. For the better of Egypt, he sought him out and found him easily. The man had no idea of the havoc Nakhti himself had caused as the man lived in solitude except when he left to hunt. Being the vampire had not fed recently Nakhti had no trouble finishing him off. Nakhti could breathe easy now that he felt he had done what was best for his people. He remembered Ayame now—not that he had ever forgotten her but she was not the most pertinent thing on his mind until this moment. But when he approached the Nile he didn’t see her. His eyes scoured the river and beyond but his eyes couldn’t find her. Desperate, he jumped into the water and stroked across without missing a beat. Dripping on the muddy shore of the river he still couldn’t see her but he could smell that she had once been here. Panicking for a moment he ran toward a few men laying about the ground to ask if they’d seen her but in his alarm he hadn’t noticed that they were dead. Clearly Ayame’s doing. Nakhti couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

He started his search in southern Egypt thinking that she might have gone looking for him instead of staying put like he’d wanted her to; when she wasn’t there he moved further south into Africa. After he had searched an entire continent he decided Japan was the most likely as that was where she had grown up, perhaps she went to look for her family. But Ayame was not in Japan. Nor was she in Taiwan or Moscow or Russia or India or Pakistan or Ireland or Portugal or Britain or Australia or Germany or Switzerland.

~|*|~

After all this time Nakhti still isn’t ready to give up and—honestly—he can’t. He loves her too much and if she’s dead he has to know. A couple times he’s tried forgetting about her and moving on but he can’t—every woman has a piece of Ayame in her but that tiny piece is so frustrating to see only a sliver of. He’s found out the hard way that his emotions are much stronger as an immortal. Nakhti now knows what he is despite what he still refers to himself as.

To help blend with human society, Nakhti takes on a variety of different last names usually having to do with people from his past. The first one he took was Zahir due to his grievance for having to take his mentor’s life. He’s lost track of all the names he’s used but his mother’s name, Aza, was among them and the name he associates with himself presently is Sayyid. The name of his first born child. He named the first two children—Sayyid and Nakhti—but after that he allowed the mothers to call them what they liked. Sayyid means ‘master’ and Nakhti felt it very much fit for him and so he used it.

These days Nakhti trots the globe as a traveling merchant of sorts. Bouncing from one company to another, his specialty is in selling big pieces of stock or parts of a company or an entire company in general, to others. He occasionally will also put himself into the business of skyscrapers or chain company building that has gone global, however, as a negotiator not a builder. It is also helpful that Nakhti has taught himself most languages around the world. And why does he go to all this trouble? To make money of course. Girls aren’t the only material ones.


this character made by SELENE also known as ELYSIAN FIELDS FOREVER

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