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Topics - Nilo Allares

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1939 / bury your flames •• nilo a.
« on: 08/16/2013 at 14:19 »

i don't care about the flesh it'll tear;
it isn't flesh that i'm worried about

april 30, 1923 •• hopeful hufflepuff
ex-sales assistant at sofia's cake shop
halfblood •• filipino w/ a slight british accent

the past is a flower; the future, the snow
i wasn't ever close to perfect but i never let you go

Before he turned eleven, Nilo's life was pretty normal - mother went back to the Philippines after a (whirlwind-)romance-went-wrong and remarried, stepfather had a fairly stable job, little brother woudn't let him copy or do his maths homework - normal. When he got his Hogwarts letter, his life went spiraling down. At the age of fourteen, Nilo saw his mother killed by a flying bottle of alcohol. Seconds later, when his drunk stepfather, the thrower, neared, he discovered he was a shapeshifter.

But not exactly - he just realized at that moment that he was turning into a wolf and he panicked (and so did his stepfather, who ran for it). Then, feeling the urge to escape, seconds later, when he was human again, he transformed into an eagle and flew for it.

Then, after a long long long flight, he managed to reach the UK, through sheer will and determination. Long story short, he reached Hogsmeade, found a job there at the Cake Shop, slept on a park bench, and started earning money to be able to go to school. And now, roughly three years later, he's finally able to continue his education, albeit a little differently.

Nilo didn't like change that much; he preferred routines and organization and normalcy, but when all that was snatched up and twisted into knots he couldn't fathom, he became broody, irritable, and paranoid. (And terribly frightened of his ability when he gets angry because he certainly doesn't want to turn into a wolf and accidentally, well, hurt someone. He won't admit it, though.) All culminating to a xenophobia that still makes him suspicious of all the foreigners around him.

Don't take it personally, though, he's like that with everybody in London who can't understand the Filipino language.

you bid the wind blow the flames out
and buried the coals in the sea

kilala •• pare •• 'tol
katiwala •• barkada

hinala •• ayaw •• asar
selos •• poot

hanga •• bonita •• lampa
dagli •• syota

kamag-aral •• dayuhan

*hover for equivalents/translations

our bones are like chains, old and rusted in the rain
they're going to snap when the weight shifts

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{{ Bury Your Flames ~ La Dispute }}

1939 / when you can't sleep at night [ambrosius]
« on: 08/16/2013 at 09:57 »

Nilo scowled and pulled his furry limbs tighter against his body, tucking his chin a little closer to his chest, as much as he could anyway while lying down with his paws under his head.

The sun had been relentless on him, and only him, it seemed. Maybe it was just him; the other students - the foreigners - didn't seem to be too bothered by said sunlight.

He shifted a little on the tiny strip of cool ground he'd now marked as his, and that his small canine body had stretched itself onto, getting as comfortable as he could. If he was in his human form, he'd had huffed and grumbled and cursed about big and bright morning-stars in the sky, but since they sounded more like pitiful whines than anything in this form, he kept his vocal cords in check.

Coming to this camp was a bad idea, he decided. Sure, he'd noticed there were pretty girls here - and oh, how he'd noticed - but, not only was the food here terrible, he couldn't even sneak into the kitchens!

Maybe it was just because he wasn't as sneaky as he'd have liked.

Either way, he couldn't cook the food himself, and he sorely missed the sight of a kitchen, with its gleaming countertops and ingredients all laid out and ready for him to make into something delicious. He especially missed dough, though. God, how he missed dough. Even though it was quite powdery and annoying, he liked how it felt under his hands.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone, not even on pain of death, that he liked baking. Because, obviously, it was a woman's work (but he was sure none of his co-workers or even his boss minded; heck, they liked it too, he supposed).

He kept grumbling mentally for a while and feeling very sad about the lack of kitchens in his near future, until he felt his eyes starting to drift close. He lifted his head a bit to open his jaw more comfortably and emitted a great big yawn, pink tongue curling as a low whine-that-resembled-a-yawn came out of his throat.

As he settled his head on his paws again and closed his eyes, he tried to stop himself from hoping no one will find him in this form, and especially while he was vulnerable and sleeping (of all things!), but he inevitably did anyway.

Just as he drifted off, he felt it, right in his gut - he was doomed.


ooc: nilo in puppy form

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