[Bio] Sora Nakamura
2 posters
Sora Nakamura- [tracker=/t2761-tracker-sora-nakamura#18113]
Name : Sora Nakamura
Epithet : The Star
Age : 23
Height : 5 foot 6
Weight : 170 pounds
Species/Tribe : Human
Faction : Pirate
Devil Fruit : N/A
Balance : [bel] 50,000
[[hardboiled]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Posts : 4
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[Bio] Sora Nakamura
Sat Dec 23, 2023 2:16 pmSora Nakamura
![[Bio] Sora Nakamura 1a0a167d30fa95e26c4bbc108ec94bf0](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/0a/16/1a0a167d30fa95e26c4bbc108ec94bf0.jpg)
Basic Character Information
Forename: Sora
Middle Name/Initial: ---
Surname: Nakamura
Epithet: The Star—a title that originates solely from Sora herself and is used primarily by her as well.
Birthdate: October 1806.
Gender: Female.
Species/Tribe: Human.
Faction: Pirate.
Profession:
- Weapon-master: Specifically talented with polearms, with an affinity for staffs. Learnt this mostly out of self-defense, then later out of necessity.
- Navigator: Somewhat necessary due to her going out on the sea alone.
- Painter: Not the greatest painter, but surprisingly capable given her self-taught nature. Specifies in ink painting in particular.
Physical Appearance
Height: 5'6, or 1.67 meters.
Weight: 170 pounds.
Hair Style: Ponytail with medium-length bangs.
Hair Color: Dark Brown.
Eye Color: Orangeish-yellow..
Scars: The palm of her hand is seared with the Hoof of the Flying Dragon.
Gear:
- A generic, black pole that she uses as a staff.
- A broken compass, smeared with a bit of blood.
Description: Her face bears a pale, white complexion, with an angular chin and a relatively small nose; relatively attractive, but mostly unremarkable barring the iciness of her glares and her surprisingly sweet, exceedingly rare smiles. Sora's hair varies greatly in neatness, ranging from meticulous tidiness to being totally unkempt; it depends a lot on how neurotic she was feeling that morning.
She has a skinny, flat build that, on a few occasions, has had her mistaken for an effeminate man. Her clothing does a good job of masking her scrawniness; Sora is not a person that can intimidate with appearances alone.
Her right hand tends to be wrapped in bandages or a glove at all times.
The Past
Main Traits: Introspective; Neurotic; Empathetic; Paranoid; Competitive; Anxious; Determined; Pessimistic.
Likes: Paintings, decisiveness, wit, wisdom.
Dislikes: Killing, reminiscing about the past, laziness, herself.
Unique laugh: Ohohoho!
Hometown: Sabaody Archipelago.
- Personality:
- Eccentric, compassionate and unstable, Sora is a witty, intelligent pirate that alternates between a courageous, verbose artist and a nervous, self-deprecating shut-in, all in the hopes of self-discovery. In this sense, her persona matches her life; bizarre, full of conflict and utterly, totally lost.
Her mind is a naturally inquisitive one (as is befitting of an artist), constantly investigating even that she already knows. On one hand, this has made her a witty and rather pragmatic woman, with a knack for critically thinking through tense situations; on the other, she is prone to getting lost in her thoughts, stumbling over her words and losing focus on the task ahead. At its worst, her curiosity gives way to a feverish paranoia, utterly terrified of the world around her and unable to believe in even her greatest allies.
All other factors being equal, Sora is kind: the need to help others—especially the beguiled and forgotten—being more than enough motivation for her to act. This, however, refers to her intention to do good; whether she can get over her infinite fears of doing the wrong thing, hurting people instead of helping, or simply being strong enough to help at all is another matter. In spite of all the understanding and empathy she might possess, her anxieties can sometimes render her totally apathetic.
Underpinning all of this is a frustrating inconsistency, her neurotic nature leaving her in a perpetual struggle to be her own self. On the best of days, Sora is amongst the sharpest and kindest individual on the seas; at her worst, she's barely anything more than stiff, washed-up drywood.
Though her enjoyment of a fight and chattiness varies dramatically, in the middle of a fight Sora is generally cunning, observant but surprisingly ambitious, oftentimes prioritizing an interesting or tough fight over an easy one (especially if she is the only one at stake). Depending on her mood, she's either reserved and reactive or bombastic and proactive.
- History — Part 1:
The earliest memory of a slave was the heat of a supernova and Sora was unluckier than most.
The sun itself would fall into your hand, flesh melting away like butter as the iron pressed into the skin. Every slave had the Hoof—the brand that made you an unperson, the reminder that your soul and mind and body were owned. It had to be applied as early as possible, lest one of the slave children slip away under the guise of being human. It had to burn, long enough to make it impossible to remove.
But it could still get worse. Most slaves, after all, had lost their family eons ago, if they had even the slightest memory of them. It wasn't often to see them slaughtered at the same time you were marked.
If there was any upside to the first tirteen years of her life, it'd be that things actually felt a lot less painful after her marking. Everything felt less after that; it was the easiest way to cope with waking up every morning as property. Overtime, her psyche split in two, desperately trying to cope with the world around her. One half was a paranoid, neurotic freak, one whose only good memory died with the brand, who barely managed to survive and was actively planning for the day she'd stop. And yet there was the other, observant, understanding and sometimes even courageous; a being, a person. No matter how bad the days got, no matter the hellish torture her masters had in mind, there was a part of Sora that was constantly planning, waiting for the opportunity to live.
July 1816. Seven am. Three hours late. Their masters were frustrated to spare even an an extra hour of rest, and would punish the slaves if they accidentally gave two. Gunshots. Smoke. Yelling. Something was wrong. Her masters bragged about the island, this was not the type of place with this chaos, so who could—
CRASH!
In the span of a second her cell, the wet, dirty, bloody hole she'd been born in, the most enduring symbol of her enslavement, was a pile of rubble. For the first time in her life, in thirteen fucking years, she could move without a shackle.
Sora didn't hear whatever her savior said to her--she didn't need to. At that moment, she would've followed them to hell and back.
- History — Part 2:
The Blackwater pirates were an interesting bunch; in many ways, their debauchery and proclivity for violence reminded Sora of the slavemasters, yet there was a bit of a soft streak present in the lot of them, especially in their captain, Hiro. She learnt that it was Hiro's idea to try and free them; he knew all too well how protected Sabaody was, but they were pirates; 'danger' was a synonym for 'fun', and Hiro was determined to free at least one person before leaving. So insane was this explanation that for a week Sora refused to believe it, preparing herself to be shackled in new chains, tossed in a new cell...but it never happened.
She had direction. She had purpose.
Over the next seven years, Sora re-learnt how to be a person, and a hectic one at that. While the girl hardly ever participated in the crew's innumerable battles, she kept herself busy by the simple act of living for the first time. On Sabaody, Sora hadn't any existence beyond being cruel entertainment; with the Blackwater, she had the time to discover bizarre, fantastic acts like ponytails and navigating and painting, the things that she dreamed of dreaming about!
She found out just how competitive she was, getting into countless bouts of chess and silly sailor's games, always striving to be better. Hiro taught her the basics of combat, helping foster a talent for polearms and putting her tenacity to good use. The other crewmates would show her around the ship, even getting her acquainted with being a helmsman. And above all else, no matter what they were doing, they were moving. Even if she didn't get to do any of the things mentioned, she could step aside, take a breath and simply gaze at the world around her. She could go anywhere she wanted...
Around her twentieth birthday, Hiro did something unusual. He was the type to try and prank the crew on such occasions, if not outright dismissing them for "wasting time!", so to wake up one day to an actual gift...
It was an old, silver compass that Hiro had owned since he was eight. Something to remember him by, he said. Something to remind her to always find her way. "Because one day, we'll be gone...and I can't have you being lost! It's going to get tough out there, Sora...! Real tough. And when it does, because it always will..."
"Look at this compass and remember us. Always try to find your way. You're the star of our show, remember?"
Sora sobbed, more than she ever had in her entirely life. Partially because it was by far the nicest words she'd ever gotten. Partially because she knew Hiro wouldn't give them if things weren't drawing to a close.
- History — Part 3:
Her final stop with the Blackwater Pirates was within the Blues. The crew wanted to leave her somewhere peaceful, somewhere that the marines wouldn't go looking for pirates like them. More importantly...it meant they would be hard for her to find.
Sora knew all too well how many enemies the group had, too well for the Blackwater's coming battle to be a surprised. Sooner or later, they'd meet a fight they couldn't win, or a battle they couldn't run from run, and that'd be it. But what kept Sora going was the thought that she'd die with them. Hiro never let her get so much as a bounty by associating with them, but Sora swore that on their day of reckoning, she'd go down with their ship. With direction. With purpose.
And then they left.
It was a funny feeling. She hadn't so much as a line of steel on her body, yet Sora felt just as shackled as she'd been as a slave. No matter how much she tried to stare past them, the only thing her horizons reflected was Blackwater. Overtime, her psyche split in two, desperately trying to cope with the world around her. One half was trapped in a prison of it's own making, unable to think of anyone or anything beyond the family she'd failed to help. Totally, utterly, brutally lost.
The other half of her was no less lacking in purpose, but was determined to forge its own.
Gray
[tracker=/t131-tracker-gray-starks#504]
Name : Gray
Epithet : "The Conqueror"; "Black Fist"
Age : 49
Height : 10'2" (310 cm)
Weight : 1043 lbs (473 kg)
Species/Tribe : Cyborg Human
Faction : Pirate
World Position : Lurking Legend (Former Yonkou)
Crew : Black Fist Pirates (Destroyed)
Ship : Sangria's Vane (Destroyed)
Crew Role : Captain (Former)
Devil Fruit : Pressure-Pressure Fruit
Bounty : [ber=r] 5,000,000,000
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.20
Shop Discount : -30%
Balance : [bel] 25,000,000,000
[[strollingdeath]][[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[childofdestiny]][[freakofnature]]
[[punchoutguru]][[dulcetvirtuoso]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Posts : 3957
Re: [Bio] Sora Nakamura
Mon Dec 25, 2023 12:15 am[approve]A very well-written bio overall! I hope Sora finds the Blackwater once again, tragic though it may be.[/approve]
Sora Nakamura wrote:Sora Nakamura
Basic Character Information
Forename: Sora
Middle Name/Initial: ---
Surname: Nakamura
Epithet: The Star—a title that originates solely from Sora herself and is used primarily by her as well.
Birthdate: October 1806.
Gender: Female.
Species/Tribe: Human.
Faction: Pirate.
Profession:
- Weapon-master: Specifically talented with polearms, with an affinity for staffs. Learnt this mostly out of self-defense, then later out of necessity.
- Navigator: Somewhat necessary due to her going out on the sea alone.
- Painter: Not the greatest painter, but surprisingly capable given her self-taught nature. Specifies in ink painting in particular.
Physical Appearance
Height: 5'6, or 1.67 meters.
Weight: 170 pounds.
Hair Style: Ponytail with medium-length bangs.
Hair Color: Dark Brown.
Eye Color: Orangeish-yellow..
Scars: The palm of her hand is seared with the Hoof of the Flying Dragon.
Gear:
- A generic, black pole that she uses as a staff.
- A broken compass, smeared with a bit of blood.
Description: Her face bears a pale, white complexion, with an angular chin and a relatively small nose; relatively attractive, but mostly unremarkable barring the iciness of her glares and her surprisingly sweet, exceedingly rare smiles. Sora's hair varies greatly in neatness, ranging from meticulous tidiness to being totally unkempt; it depends a lot on how neurotic she was feeling that morning.
She has a skinny, flat build that, on a few occasions, has had her mistaken for an effeminate man. Her clothing does a good job of masking her scrawniness; Sora is not a person that can intimidate with appearances alone.
Her right hand tends to be wrapped in bandages or a glove at all times.
The Past
Main Traits: Introspective; Neurotic; Empathetic; Paranoid; Competitive; Anxious; Determined; Pessimistic.
Likes: Paintings, decisiveness, wit, wisdom.
Dislikes: Killing, reminiscing about the past, laziness, herself.
Unique laugh: Ohohoho!
Hometown: Sabaody Archipelago.
- Personality:
Her mind is a naturally inquisitive one (as is befitting of an artist), constantly investigating even that she already knows. On one hand, this has made her a witty and rather pragmatic woman, with a knack for critically thinking through tense situations; on the other, she is prone to getting lost in her thoughts, stumbling over her words and losing focus on the task ahead. At its worst, her curiosity gives way to a feverish paranoia, utterly terrified of the world around her and unable to believe in even her greatest allies.
All other factors being equal, Sora is kind: the need to help others—especially the beguiled and forgotten—being more than enough motivation for her to act. This, however, refers to her intention to do good; whether she can get over her infinite fears of doing the wrong thing, hurting people instead of helping, or simply being strong enough to help at all is another matter. In spite of all the understanding and empathy she might possess, her anxieties can sometimes render her totally apathetic.
Underpinning all of this is a frustrating inconsistency, her neurotic nature leaving her in a perpetual struggle to be her own self. On the best of days, Sora is amongst the sharpest and kindest individual on the seas; at her worst, she's barely anything more than stiff, washed-up drywood.
Though her enjoyment of a fight and chattiness varies dramatically, in the middle of a fight Sora is generally cunning, observant but surprisingly ambitious, oftentimes prioritizing an interesting or tough fight over an easy one (especially if she is the only one at stake). Depending on her mood, she's either reserved and reactive or bombastic and proactive.
- History — Part 1:
The earliest memory of a slave was the heat of a supernova and Sora was unluckier than most.
The sun itself would fall into your hand, flesh melting away like butter as the iron pressed into the skin. Every slave had the Hoof—the brand that made you an unperson, the reminder that your soul and mind and body were owned. It had to be applied as early as possible, lest one of the slave children slip away under the guise of being human. It had to burn, long enough to make it impossible to remove.
But it could still get worse. Most slaves, after all, had lost their family eons ago, if they had even the slightest memory of them. It wasn't often to see them slaughtered at the same time you were marked.
If there was any upside to the first tirteen years of her life, it'd be that things actually felt a lot less painful after her marking. Everything felt less after that; it was the easiest way to cope with waking up every morning as property. Overtime, her psyche split in two, desperately trying to cope with the world around her. One half was a paranoid, neurotic freak, one whose only good memory died with the brand, who barely managed to survive and was actively planning for the day she'd stop. And yet there was the other, observant, understanding and sometimes even courageous; a being, a person. No matter how bad the days got, no matter the hellish torture her masters had in mind, there was a part of Sora that was constantly planning, waiting for the opportunity to live.
July 1816. Seven am. Three hours late. Their masters were frustrated to spare even an an extra hour of rest, and would punish the slaves if they accidentally gave two. Gunshots. Smoke. Yelling. Something was wrong. Her masters bragged about the island, this was not the type of place with this chaos, so who could—
CRASH!
In the span of a second her cell, the wet, dirty, bloody hole she'd been born in, the most enduring symbol of her enslavement, was a pile of rubble. For the first time in her life, in thirteen fucking years, she could move without a shackle.
Sora didn't hear whatever her savior said to her--she didn't need to. At that moment, she would've followed them to hell and back.
- History — Part 2:
The Blackwater pirates were an interesting bunch; in many ways, their debauchery and proclivity for violence reminded Sora of the slavemasters, yet there was a bit of a soft streak present in the lot of them, especially in their captain, Hiro. She learnt that it was Hiro's idea to try and free them; he knew all too well how protected Sabaody was, but they were pirates; 'danger' was a synonym for 'fun', and Hiro was determined to free at least one person before leaving. So insane was this explanation that for a week Sora refused to believe it, preparing herself to be shackled in new chains, tossed in a new cell...but it never happened.
She had direction. She had purpose.
Over the next seven years, Sora re-learnt how to be a person, and a hectic one at that. While the girl hardly ever participated in the crew's innumerable battles, she kept herself busy by the simple act of living for the first time. On Sabaody, Sora hadn't any existence beyond being cruel entertainment; with the Blackwater, she had the time to discover bizarre, fantastic acts like ponytails and navigating and painting, the things that she dreamed of dreaming about!
She found out just how competitive she was, getting into countless bouts of chess and silly sailor's games, always striving to be better. Hiro taught her the basics of combat, helping foster a talent for polearms and putting her tenacity to good use. The other crewmates would show her around the ship, even getting her acquainted with being a helmsman. And above all else, no matter what they were doing, they were moving. Even if she didn't get to do any of the things mentioned, she could step aside, take a breath and simply gaze at the world around her. She could go anywhere she wanted...
Around her twentieth birthday, Hiro did something unusual. He was the type to try and prank the crew on such occasions, if not outright dismissing them for "wasting time!", so to wake up one day to an actual gift...
It was an old, silver compass that Hiro had owned since he was eight. Something to remember him by, he said. Something to remind her to always find her way. "Because one day, we'll be gone...and I can't have you being lost! It's going to get tough out there, Sora...! Real tough. And when it does, because it always will..."
"Look at this compass and remember us. Always try to find your way. You're the star of our show, remember?"
Sora sobbed, more than she ever had in her entirely life. Partially because it was by far the nicest words she'd ever gotten. Partially because she knew Hiro wouldn't give them if things weren't drawing to a close.
- History — Part 3:
Her final stop with the Blackwater Pirates was within the Blues. The crew wanted to leave her somewhere peaceful, somewhere that the marines wouldn't go looking for pirates like them. More importantly...it meant they would be hard for her to find.
Sora knew all too well how many enemies the group had, too well for the Blackwater's coming battle to be a surprised. Sooner or later, they'd meet a fight they couldn't win, or a battle they couldn't run from run, and that'd be it. But what kept Sora going was the thought that she'd die with them. Hiro never let her get so much as a bounty by associating with them, but Sora swore that on their day of reckoning, she'd go down with their ship. With direction. With purpose.
And then they left.
It was a funny feeling. She hadn't so much as a line of steel on her body, yet Sora felt just as shackled as she'd been as a slave. No matter how much she tried to stare past them, the only thing her horizons reflected was Blackwater. Overtime, her psyche split in two, desperately trying to cope with the world around her. One half was trapped in a prison of it's own making, unable to think of anyone or anything beyond the family she'd failed to help. Totally, utterly, brutally lost.
The other half of her was no less lacking in purpose, but was determined to forge its own.
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