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Name: Haunting Nocturne, goes by "Noc" Gender: Female Age: Mare Species: Areion Eye colour: A dull crimson Character colour: Grey Mane/Tail/Other: Noc's mane is spiky and choppy, often looking like she's just tumbled out of bed while still carrying a roguish charm. Her tail is roughly the same. Both are a faded black coloration with hints of her coat's grey streaked here and there. The areion's bat-like wings are a darker ebony. Physique: Lithe and on the slender side Residence: Trottingham Occupation: Lead Guitarist for Wing Power, a metal band Cutie Mark: An ethereal eighth note teased by a tendril of fog Unique Traits: Noc is rather adept at hovering, to the point it looks nearly effortless with very little wing movement. This produces the illusion that she's almost floating in place rather than flying, a trick she uses to great effect during soulful solos. She's also a bit of a pyrotechnical genius. Also, loves cheese and apples as a favorite snack. Yes, she knows exactly what cheese is. History: Haunting Nocturne was born to two very ordinary and upstanding parents, a fact she finds rather irritating to this day. The opinionated pony developed a willful personality very early on, and was hard to deter from the things she wanted to do. If ever there was a "trouble" pony in class, it was Noc. It wasn't that she bullied anypony or broke anything, she simply was the very definition of headstrong and hard-to-handle. As she grew, counter culture looked very appealing to the young filly, and she began listening to the music that more prudish parents might attribute to rapscallions and ruffians. Songs that incited rebellion! To the areion, however, it was a gateway to a truer world, a window to her inner self. She was darker than other ponies, just as this music was heavier than anything she'd ever heard. It didn't pull punches. It told things how they were, without the sugar coating. This was metal. From the time she could convince her parents to buy her a guitar, the young pony set about learning to tug those sounds from her own strings (when it suited her, anyway). For a long time she tried, but was unsuccessful. She needed power, not acoustics alone. After toiling for some bits, she finally obtained her very own, rather beat-up magically powered guitar. From the very first distorted strum, the areion knew she'd found her calling. Month after month she would sneak out, meeting with her friends to mess around and play some music. In time, they got a few throwaway gigs at places that couldn't have cared less about whether they had something onstage or not. Sometimes they would get one or two audience members intrigued, but for the most part they were just another cellar band (especially when they didn't have a set name, and would come up with things like Lint Skimmer or Porridge Basters on the spot). Frustrated, Noc actually began working hard to increase her skill, rather than just playing whenever she felt like it. It was the first sustained effort she had put into anything, ever. Gradually, her own unique style emerged and she began to take a greater role in the direction of the band's songs. At their next gig, she again faced a sea of disinterested, almost annoyed faces. Well that was fine. She'd take their boredom and disdain and turn it right back at them tenfold. She poured her angst and determination into her playing, and when the time was right launched into a shredding solo that at first demonstrated her frustration, translated into jarring chords and distortion, then tapered down into an emotional, almost haunting display of virtuosity. After the set, she hadn't sent the entire crowd to their feet or anything, but at least they weren't bored or disinterested anymore. The Belly Bubbles had played their first successful set. Noc had halfway expected to see her cutie mark appear for such an achievement, but there was no such luck on that end. Not that she cared. Maybe. It wasn't until about a week later that realization hit her: her guitar, that instrument in her hooves, was the conduit to her soul. It was her gate through which she could channel all of her raw feelings from inside and send them screeching out into the world in the guise of a wailing axe. Through this one enchanted item, she could change the world. Make everything... metal. Her cutie mark appeared. Once empowered by a set vision, though it still wasn't enough to illicit any amount of long-term focus from the areion, her skills improved dramatically. Ponies took notice. Eventually, she was drafted into the position she holds today: lead guitarist for Wing Power. Now the bits and parties flow like good liquor, but the keenest of eyes can look into her relaxed gaze and see a glimmer of what those crimson orbs portend: the world will be cast in shadow, and its herald will be the keening of a guitar. Character Summary/Personality: Noc is a rather impulse-driven individual. One moment she'll be snoozing on the couch, the next having a contest with herself to see how many donuts she can scarf down before running out the door to band practice. It all boils down to boredom. The areion hates to be bored. This isn't to say she can't relax or have downtime, but then it's only when it suits her... which can be a lot, admittedly. Her personality is a bit of a contradiction in and of itself. After years of shredding the guitar, her natural energy level is rather high, and she doesn't tire out too easily. This is most evident at 3 am when she's still wide awake and sighing at the loud collective snores of more diurnal ponies. Of course, sleeping in until mid-afternoon often helps. Her favorite activities are playing guitar (obviously), watching extreme sports, drinking, eating, sleeping, building blanket forts for aforementioned sleeping, and experimenting with ignitable substances. While all of this may make it appear that the pony is rather whimsical and active, it's rather misleading. Her motives are often known only to herself, but the "stress" of being around her does go down with time. Getting used to her itself, however, can be a chore. Haunting Nocturne speaks her mind, often with no regard for the possible consequences. She doesn't put up with those she finds tiresome, which can be rather off-putting to easily-offended ponies. The mare knows who she is and offers only that, with no regrets. Those who are persistent, love music or generally are comfortable with themselves and others will get along with Noc more often than not. Live and let live. In a nutshell, Noc can be a bit selfish and strange/goofy, but completely serious and almost disdainful when it comes to her art. She will make the world metal. She will make everything metal. Blacker than the blackest black, times infinity.