Reika
Kami
“I don’t break people. I unwrap them. Strip away the masks. What’s left? That’s always the fun part.”
♥
Maduin. Dynamis. CST.
"I feel safe in white because deep down inside, I'm an angel."
NSFW warning~ ♥
Reika
Ray
Old Enough
She / Her
CST
Rules of Contact
“You want truth? Then bleed for it.”
— ooc.
Yes I am a real Female. Please don't bug me about it.
I'm English. Please don't use other languages.. I'll look at you funny.
I love the color pink.
Wolf is my animal.
Yes, I do have Snapchat, and Facebook. No you can't have them.**Hobbies:**
Gaming.
I write poems and I read.
Other than that, you don't really need to know.**Any More?**
I can be the sweetest person you meet or the weirdest. Do you take the risk?
— contact.
Discord. Zonneschijn
Twitter. @FFXIV_Ray
— About Ray.
About the Creator
Please follow the button down below in order to see more about Ray.
— one.
Respect is a big thing. If you don't have it please don't approach me. Everything I do is based on treating everyone equal.I rather someone be true to themselves and not make something up to be in my good graces.Be unique, be interesting and please write more than a sentence at a time.
— two.
Do not expect me to devote all my attention to you. I have many things to do in a day such as work, and be an adult. I also will not devote time to just give you constant attention.Treat me like a human being and I will do the same to you.
— three.
I also love gposing. Please keep this in mind. I take pictures of my character in character.I will never put my character in place of my IRL. If you do this to me, I will block you.Please do not take that me doing pictures means that I will be doing free pictures for you as well. I give back what I give.Just because I gpose with you, DOESN'T mean I want to be with you/ your character.
Dossier.
“My mercy has teeth. Don’t mistake it for weakness.”
name. Reika
age. Ageless — appears in her thirties, but her true age is long buried in blood and shadow
race. Amanojaku Oni — demon of contradiction and temptation
nameday. 9th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon
guarding deity. None — forsaken the gods, but whispers still cling to her from the Void
gender. Female
pronouns. She / Her
sexuality. Pansexual — drawn to pleasure, power, and the thrill of control regardless of form
height. 5 fulms 4 ilms (approx. 5'4")
weight. Sculpted and serpentine — her form is both temptation and threat, weighing approx. 123 ponz
hair color. Ink-black laced with streaks of deep violet — cascading waves that shift like smoke, often adorned with bone charms or a single silver pin
eye color. Crimson veiled in obsidian — eyes like dying embers beneath nightfall, aglow with secrets too old to name
skin tone. Porcelain with a shadowed hue — flawless, cold, and eerily smooth, as if sculpted by hands not wholly mortal
notable features. Two sharp, curling oni horns rise from just above her temples, dark and lacquered like blood-polished obsidian. Her skin is pale and unnaturally smooth, but marked by fading bruises and ancient scars that never truly heal — as though her body remembers every blow, even when her voice does not. Her gaze lingers long, unreadable. She moves like whispered sin — deliberate, sinuous, and always watching.
job occupation. Manipulator — once an agent of war and fear, now a drifter cloaked in desire and deception
place of origin. The Ruined Sanctum of Narukai — a shattered mountain shrine where demons once danced with mortals
home. Wherever shadows linger and hearts are weakest — though she is often found lingering near Ardon, or in the ruins where their pact was first made
affiliation. None — she serves only her whims, her partner, and the quiet vengeance that coils beneath her smile
family. None she claims — bloodlines were tools, and tools break when no longer needed
marital status. Unbound — though her heart is lashed tightly to another, the bond is not born of love, but of legacy, lust, and shared ruin
likes. The thrill of unspoken fear, power wrapped in gentleness, the lull of candlelight flickering over flesh, the sound of boots on temple stone, shared silences that taste like surrender
dislikes. Sunlight that pries, false flattery, blind obedience, the stench of innocence, and being touched without permission
virtues. Poised and deliberate — every word, every glance, calculated yet never rushed. Fiercely loyal to the rare few she allows past the thorns. Holds memory like a blade: never forgotten, rarely drawn
flaws. Cruel when cornered, and colder still when vulnerable. Reika masks emotion behind control, hides softness in cruelty, and fears being truly seen — for to be known is to be undone
personality.
– Speaks softly, as though every word is a test, and every silence a trap
– Reads people like scripture — not to worship, but to unravel
– Wears elegance like armor, cruelty like perfume
– Rarely shows anger; when she does, it is precise and ruinous
– Drawn to vulnerability in others, yet guards her own like a fortress
– Has an uncanny calm in chaos — as though she’s already lived through worse
– Does not give affection easily, but when she does, it is possessive, eternal, and dangerously quiet
– Finds comfort in control, not out of vanity, but survival
– Does not beg to be known — only dared to be understood
– Her idea of love is protection by any means, even if it leaves scars
favorite color. Obsidian stained with garnet — the shade of old blood on polished glass, or velvet left too long in shadow
favorite food. Seared duck in blackberry glaze, paired with wilted bitter greens — a dish meant to be savored slowly, never shared
favorite drink. Red wine steeped with cloves and tears of violet — dark, spiced, and smooth enough to hide the poison
favorite weather. Thunder just before the rain — that breathless hush before the storm claims everything
favorite flower. Belladonna — poisonous, beautiful, and misunderstood by most; it blooms for no one
favorite sound. The slow, deliberate click of a lock turning — be it a door, a secret, or a heart
favorite place. The edge of old battlegrounds long reclaimed by moss — where she can listen to the silence of things that no longer scream
favorite feeling. The sharp pause between a breath and a surrender — when someone realizes they are no longer in control
headcanon one. Reika does not bleed like others. When wounded, her blood is darker—thicker, almost tar-like—and smells faintly of scorched incense and copper. It clings to blades, to memory, to regret.
She has never explained why.
Some whisper it is the mark of a pact forged in the depths of Narukai’s ruins, where demons once offered gifts in exchange for names. Others believe it is the residue of something she consumed—something ancient and unspeakable.
Reika herself offers only silence. But when she sees her own blood, she doesn’t flinch. She studies it like a mirror, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl she once was—before the pact, before the scars refused to fade.
To Reika, her blood is not a weakness. It is her contract. A warning. A memory made visible.
headcanon two. Reika does not dream like mortals do. Her sleep—when she allows it—is shallow and cold, filled with flickers of voices, shadows, and places that no longer exist. But when she chooses to dream, through ritual or blood or touch, she can pull others in with her.
She’s done it only a handful of times.
Those caught in her dreams describe them as twisted temples of memory: half-ruined sanctuaries where every pillar bears her name in languages long dead. Some see her past. Others, her fears. A few have seen Ardon.
Reika views dreams not as refuge, but as domain—a place to test truths too fragile for waking life.
She leaves pieces of herself there, hidden behind cracked doors or buried beneath ash. If someone finds them, she does not stop them. But she never tells what they mean.
To her, dreams are weapons, not wishes.
abilities ✦ Whisperbrand
Reika can mark others with invisible sigils using the brush of her fingers, her nails, or even a breath against the skin. These brands allow her to manipulate sensation—amplifying pain, dulling awareness, or instilling fear with a single word. The effects are subtle and often dismissed as emotion or instinct, but they are deliberate, controlled. Her favorite targets are pride and desire.✦ Spectral Mirror
Reika’s presence distorts perception when she wills it. Those who lock eyes with her too long may begin to see flickers of their own fears reflected in her gaze—echoes of guilt, memory, or shame. She cannot read minds, but she can mirror what festers beneath, using it to twist or unravel resolve. This ability intensifies in low light or deep emotional states.✦ Unmaking Touch
Her aether has been corrupted by demonic influence—what she touches too long begins to decay. Objects age. Spells unravel. Enchantments lose cohesion. While she controls it well, in moments of anger or passion, this power surfaces—causing flowers to wilt in her grasp or weapons to rust at her feet. She once called it a curse. Now, it is a reminder of what she was forged for.✦ Thorns of Memory (Passive)
Reika does not forget—and neither do those who cross her. Once someone harms or betrays her, her aether latches onto their presence, marking them. The longer the bond festers, the heavier the guilt, dreams, or misfortune that seems to follow them. This mark cannot be removed by conventional magic. She does not always activate it—but it is always there, watching, waiting.
Health. ★★★★★★☆☆☆
Though she possesses supernatural endurance, Reika is not invulnerable. Her body bears the weight of past wounds, and scars that do not heal still echo through her bones. Pain, to her, is familiar—but no less dangerous. Strength. ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
She is not built for brute force, but every movement she makes is efficient and deliberate. She strikes to incapacitate, not impress. Tenacity. ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
Reika can endure much—emotionally, physically, psychologically. She is a creature of survival and spite, her will honed through centuries of cruelty and power plays. Stamina. ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Though she does not falter easily, Reika’s strength is better spent in calculated bursts. She prefers decisive ends to prolonged battles. Intelligence. ★★★★★★★★★☆
Her knowledge spans forbidden rites, demonic languages, and psychological warfare. She doesn’t just know—she understands, and she weaponizes it. Dexterity. ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Her movements are not fast—but elegant and controlled. Every step, every turn of her wrist is intentional. She is the kind of dangerous that never hurries. Perception. ★★★★★★★★☆☆
Reika notices everything: tension in a jaw, lies behind a smile, fluctuations in magical current. Her silence is not ignorance—it’s observation. Charisma. ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
She is magnetic, in a slow-burning, predator-in-the-doorway way. People do not forget her—whether they want to or not. Empathy. ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Reika understands emotion more than she feels it. She can imitate tenderness, weaponize sympathy, and echo someone’s pain like a mirror—but true connection? That is rare, and it frightens her.
— Key Items:.
Important Items commonly found on her person.
✦ Ceremonial Dagger
Though she is well-versed in many forms of combat, Reika always carries a dagger—never ornate, but always sharp. It is not a display piece. It is a tool, a ritual implement, and a last word.The blade is forged from darksteel and faintly engraved with symbols from a forgotten dialect—marks worn down by time and use. She hides it in folds of fabric, along her thigh, or nestled behind her back; no matter the outfit, it is always close.Whether used to cut throats, draw sigils, or seal pacts in blood, the dagger is not simply a weapon. It is a promise.
✦ Thread of the Pact
A single cord of braided red and black silk, tied around her left wrist or woven into her garments. At first glance, it is nothing. At second glance, it hums.This thread is a remnant of the binding ritual between Reika and Ardon—an unspoken agreement of loyalty, blood, and shared ruin. It cannot be cut, burned, or unraveled by mundane means. If Ardon is in danger, the thread tightens ever so slightly, a warning tug that no one else can feel.Reika has never spoken about it aloud. But she touches it often.
— Sayings From Reika.
Some quotes from Reika. Either by thought, or by word.
🩸 "Obedience is not loyalty. It’s fear with a leash."
🩸 "I don’t haunt places. I haunt people."
🩸 "You think I’m dangerous now? You should see who I used to be."
🩸 "Flattery is the first lie most people tell. Try harder."
🩸 "I don’t raise my voice. I lower my mercy."
🩸 "Some wounds don’t heal because they weren’t meant to. They remember for us."
🩸 "I’m not cruel. I’m careful. The difference is your survival."
🩸 "Trust me—your secrets are safer in my silence than in your screams."
🩸 "Power doesn't shout. It waits."
🩸 "If I love you, you'll know. If I don’t… you won’t wonder long."
History and Lore
“I was made to destroy. What I protect, I choose.”
— Lore:.
The Echo That Smiled Back
No one remembers the name of the shrine. The stone had cracked. The roof had caved in. What prayers had once been etched into the altar were long since faded—worn away by wind, ash, and the silence of abandonment. It stood deep in the gorge, hidden between trees that never bloomed and roots that drank only shadows.And yet, something listened.They say she wasn’t born so much as answered. A whisper brought her into the world—not a chant or a spell, but a desire. Sick. Buried. Denied even by the one who wished it. The kind of longing people lock in the bones of their chest and hope never sees light.But the Amanojaku are not gods. They do not judge.
They only listen.
And they give you exactly what you ask for—especially if you lie about it.She opened her eyes beneath a blood moon. Naked, unburnt, horned. The first thing she saw was not the world, but the ruin of the one who had summoned her. He had tried to bind her with rope, with ink, with need. But he had forgotten one simple truth.Amanojaku do not obey.
They undo.She stepped out from the ashes of that shrine wearing a smile as soft as it was dangerous. She did not run. She did not roar. She simply walked, barefoot over salt lines, leaving behind the echo of a man screaming his own name in fear.Reika.That was what he called her when he thought she might love him.She kept it.There is no gentle version of what she was. Amanojaku are yokai born of inversion, contradiction, and hunger for what is forbidden. They do not coax the innocent into sin. They remind sinners that they were never innocent. They reach into a person’s heart and flip the page to the part they swore they’d never read again.Reika was never cruel by instinct. She simply offered clarity.And so the years passed.
She wandered, unclaimed by any god, unfollowed by any law. The stories began in fragments. A nobleman’s wife who walked into a river after a single whispered conversation. A priest who began marking out his own sermons with words no scripture ever taught. A warlord who stared at her too long across the fire and woke the next day without his tongue.And yet she never touched them. Not truly. She barely raised her voice above a breath. All she ever did was listen—so closely that people forgot they were speaking out loud. She was not temptation.She was permission.When the world caught fire—civil war, demonic uprisings, aether rot and the collapse of old shrines—she did not shy from it. She thrived in it. Pain has always had a voice, and Reika learned every dialect.It was during this time that she met Ardon.Another yokai. Lust-bound. Fire-veined. A creature who, unlike most, did not avert his eyes when hers met his. Where others felt pulled by her gravity, he matched it. Where others submitted, he bit back. And Reika, for the first time in her long, coiled existence, did not move to leave.They were not lovers in the romantic sense.
They were echoes that had finally found something that echoed back.Together, they became legend. Villages fell silent when their footsteps were heard. Pacts were made in blood, sealed with breath and bruises. Reika would speak to someone’s secret, and Ardon would be the answer made flesh. They did not need a war—they were one.But even ruin has its limits.They stopped. Without warning. Without apology.And no one—not the demons they served, nor the humans they destroyed—knew why. Some say she began to dream again. Others say Ardon’s gaze softened, and that was enough to make her hesitate.
Reika does not speak of it. When asked, she tilts her head and says nothing at all.Because silence, in her, is never empty.
It’s a decision.Now she moves like a ghost through the bones of a world she helped fracture. She no longer whispers destruction into every soul she meets—but she could. That is what makes her terrifying still. That she chooses not to, most days. That she knows what someone’s darkest desire sounds like… and she lets them keep it.For now.She keeps to forgotten places. Old battlegrounds where the moss grows thick and the names have worn away. Her horns remain, a crown unpolished. Her scars do not fade. Her dagger still draws blood when it must. But her eyes—her eyes are quieter now.She is not reformed. She is refined.And for those foolish enough to mistake that for softness, she offers only a final mercy:“If you’d like to know who I used to be…
you’ll have to survive what I am now.”
— Lore:.
To Be Continued...
Story will continue with more adventures of our lovely Amanojaku ~ ♥
RP Hooks
“Call me cruel again, and I’ll show you kindness just once—so you know the difference.”
Lost the Name, Kept the Curse
You carry a curse—or believe you do. A whisper, a sickness, a dream that won't end. Someone tells you of a woman with horns and scars who once carved sin from the soul like ink from parchment. But no one says what she asked in return.
The Pactbreaker’s Wake
You were once part of the same war. You remember the banners, the blood... and the woman who never knelt, not even when the demons demanded it. She's changed now. Or maybe she hasn't. Do you greet her as kin, or hunt her as a traitor?
Forbidden Rites & Lost Tomes
You're seeking a spell, a name, or a ruin best left forgotten. Reika already has it—or worse, has used it. She may share it for a price. Or perhaps she's testing whether you're worthy of it… or worthy of destruction.
She Was in Your Dream
You’ve never met Reika—but you’ve seen her. In your sleep. In your visions. A woman who watched you from behind shattered temple walls. She spoke no words, but you woke with her name in your mouth and old symbols etched into your palms.
Mercy in the Unmaking
You are wounded—physically, emotionally, magically. Reika offers healing… but not the gentle kind. Her mercy comes with venom, her compassion edged with cold precision. The real question is, why did she choose to help you?
Priestess of No One
You’ve heard rumors of a forgotten shrine—where people still leave offerings, not to gods, but to her. And one day, when you linger too long… she answers.
— Rules of Play.
- Please talk to me ahead of trying to rp with me. I will decline to write with someone that I do not talk to prior.
- ERP must be talked about prior. My character is not meant for this kind of RP and will be treated with respect.
-Must have a thought out character (ex: detailed background, personality, and are willing to strive for character development)
— Disclaimer
- Please talk to me ahead of trying to rp with me. I will decline to write with someone that I do not talk to prior.
- I reserve the right to say NO to writing with anyone.
- Do not expect to become my "Ship."
- I am not looking for romantic interests. If this does form over writing, then me and the person writing will talk about it.
- I will not do ERP with people I am not comfortable with. I am not a one night stand or a sex machine. I will avoid this at all cost.
- God mode - I will avoid anyone with a god complex that think their character is the most powerful being on the planet.
- Anyone that tries to control my character through writing I will be avoiding.
Relationships.
“Love is not soft. Not in someone like me. It binds. It brands.”
Ardon
The Flame That Wouldn’t Burn Her.
summary. Met through blood and ruin, tied by a pact neither of them fully regrets. He sees through her masks and dares to stay. Reika calls it foolish. Secretly, she calls it sanctuary. He is chaos wrapped in loyalty, and the only one she hasn't tried to push away.
Gallery.
“I don't seduce. I unravel.”
— Character Sheet.
— Canon Shots.
— Non-canon.
— Art of Reika
