Regina is a beautiful young girl who stands at 155cm (5' 1") and weighs in at 57kg (125lbs). The extra weight that she has over most girls is solely due to her pregnancy, which she is currently 5 months into. She has quite the sizable assets for a 15yo girl and the shape of her hips compliment her figure, although her BWH ratio stands at 26-28-23 if measured in inches and 66-71-58 if measured in centimeters. She wears a strapless bra and matching-colored panties underneath her clothing, and although she often wears a short skirt around home, she'll usually wear a pair of bike shorts or a longer skirt instead whenever she's on campus, out of respect for the dress code. She doesn't always keep her hair in a ponytail either, sometimes choosing to let her hair down and allow it to fall below her shoulders.

Unsurprisingly, the biggest thing to note about Regina (apart from her schizophrenia or her pregnancy, that is) is that she is quite the chatterbox. She just loves to catch up on all the gossip that's going on around her, and if she has something to say about something about a specific topic, you can bet that she'll throw in her two cents. As typical of a socialite, Regina's ability to make friends with someone depends entirely on how well they can or are willing to hold a conversation. But she'll invest a lot of effort in each attempt to communicate with a new face, and she'll make multiple attempts as well. She'll even exercise her decent knowledge of sign language if she realizes that regular talking doesn't cut it with a specific someone in particular, or if there's an evident language barrier, she'll look into learning her intended converser's native language and see if she can grasp it. And if all else fails and she has no-one to talk to, Regina will happily run her mouth off in front of her reflection in a mirror or the like. The hard part is convincing her that she needs to give it a rest, especially without her taking it personally.

Truth be told though, someone has to keep talking in order for Regina to ascertain her own sanity. She has a vast difficulty coping with extended periods of silence, and if her surroundings are reticent for too long, she'll shriek in recoil if she hears the slightest sound that isn't from her own actions; even the noise made by someone accidentally dropping a pencil. This makes it extremely difficult on those that prefer the peace and quiet, and downright impossible for Regina to sit an exam unless special preparations have been made for her in advance. The worrying thing is that, although she has medication specifically designed to combat symptoms like this, Regina remains adamant that she can't take it any more due to her pregnancy... and even if there was schizophrenia medication that she could take whilst pregnant, chances are that either she tried it before and it wasn't powerful enough to make a non-negligible difference, or it's still in its experimental stages; and Regina is not the slightest bit comfortable putting something that'd be classified as experimental into her body.

For someone who would willingly open up about her schizophrenia, Regina puts up a valiant front of normalcy while she's out in public. She tries her best to keep cool, calm and collected, not to react to anything that it'd be abnormal to and not to let her schizophrenia get the best of her. It's a tall order considering how much of a juggling act each symptom provides, and the fact that she no choice but to share a learning experience with known delinquents makes things all the harder. However, while the natural stubbornness that she gets from her mother is both a blessing at times and a curse at others, in this case Regina's refusal to give up works to her advantage. She wants to beat her schizophrenia with everything she's got, and she'll be damned if it winds up defining her as a person.

Diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of 5 years old under the Cognitive Disturbances scale, Regina Branch was always somewhat of a difficult child to look after. Unfortunately, what made it harder on her was that neither of her parents could devote as much time to be there for her as she truly needed. Her mother, Gnrl. Raegan Branch, was always on deployment overseeing the battalion of military personnel under her command, and her father, Dr. Evan Branch, had to continually advance his career in order to be able to put food on the table for the family. The job of looking after Regina was supposed to fall under the responsibilities of her two teenage siblings, sister Galilea and brother Zaid, but Zaid would always insist that he needed to study or do too much homework or other things each time he was asked, and Galilea made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Regina. On top of that, it was evident that Galilea's hotblooded nature and instinctive aggression towards others was a bad influence, and telling her to do something she wouldn't hesitate to refuse was just asking for trouble. So in the end, Regina had to endure a childhood of loneliness. It was here that her schizophrenia began to make itself known.

Regina was an emotional child at first, never able to help but burst into tears the second something went wrong. At first, the only person in the whole family that had a problem with this was Galilea, who would always react in a hostile manner whenever she heard Regina's crying. But after a while, Zaid too rapidly tired of it, and even Dr. Evan decided enough was enough. He immediately look into medication that was safe for Regina to digest that would help her ease the burden, and after some painstaking research, finally found something worth prescribing her with. She'd since mellowed out a lot, but was still prone to panic attacks... and still is to this day, as unfortunate as the cards that were dealt to her in life. As such, Dr. Evan hired a private tutor to home-school Regina, feeling as though that was the best option to educate her for the future. This would continue right up until the age of 14, where Regina would eventually be eligible to be enrolled into Oxbridge Academy.

While she was scared that her panic attacks would flare up at the worst possible time, Regina eventually braved the ordinary high school life... only to find out there wasn't as much to be afraid of as she first thought. Her classmates were friendly enough and her teachers were understanding of her condition. The faculty had even organized a completely different seating arrangement for Regina when mid-year and end-of-year exams came around, so that she'd be separated from the other students in order to prevent them from being distracted, and were kind enough to give her more time to complete her own should she need it. But it all went downhill the following year. A goth girl was assigned to Regina's class that year as a new student, and she would not accept any pleasantries from anyone. She was rude to everyone around her, even the teachers, and she spared no-one from all the flak that she claimed to feel obligated to dish out. It was little wonder then, that the goth girl had triggered a panic attack from Regina, but she went even further; scoffing at the sight of the full-bladed craft knife that she instinctively reached for and daring her to throw it before turning her back to leave, as if to defy the possibility that Regina wouldn't wind up throwing it in her panic or, even if she did, that it wouldn't miss her completely and that her resulting expulsion wouldn't be in vain.

Imagine the goth girl's surprise, then, when that very same craft knife struck her blade first and dug in so close to her spinal canal, inflicting enough damage to send her falling to her knees. Regina froze in horror, not knowing whether she should try to help the fallen goth girl to her feet or bolt in the opposing direction. Thankfully, paramedics arrived who weren't so hopelessly slow to respond, and were able to bring the fallen goth girl into the hospital for treatment. But Regina wasn't so lucky; not only did she face an immediate expulsion from the academy, but she was also sued for damages, with the threat of being dragged into juvenile hall should she be found guilty. It was a good thing Zaid had studied to be a defense attorney this whole time, as the minute he caught wind of the case, he immediately assigning himself to represent Regina for her defense. He managed to convince the jury to find her not guilty due to temporary insanity, but begrudgingly had to settle for allowing the opposing prosecutor to file a restraining order between her and the goth girl that would last for 6 months, in exchange for her freedom. Zaid was quick to criticize the younger sister for refusing to answer the vast majority of the prosecutor's questions, but Regina was so terrified by the whole ordeal of having to show up for court that she couldn't even bring herself to breath a sigh of relief once the case was over. Seeing that, Zaid realized that he couldn't fault Regina for her lack of commentary after all.

A month had passed since then, and all of a sudden, one of Regina's former classmates had called her cell to say that he was hosting a party and that she was invited. Evidently he felt sorry for the hell that "that goth bitch" had put her through, and thought that the invitation would cheer her up considering she looked like a party girl at heart. He did say that he had to discuss said invitation with some of the others though and while issues were definitely had, the majority were surprisingly OK with it and/or didn't care. Relieved that the classmate was kind enough to offer the invitation, Regina gladly accepted. And she had a blast that night, catching up with old friends, going ham on beer skulling and doing all sorts of crazy shenanigans. She doesn't remember everything that happened that day, but she eventually discovered that she would've likely gotten pregnant sometime within that night's time-frame. To twins no less! Regina wasn't sure how she felt about that though, as this practically forced her off of her medication, much to Dr. Evan's dismay. Still, Regina felt fine around home for the most part. A lot of that was because of Dr. Evan's supervision, though conversing with him and telling stories to him felt therapeutic for Regina as well, and that certainly helped.

Four months later, another unexpected call had woken Regina up with a fright. It was from the principal of Oxbridge Academy himself, and he called Regina directly to let her know that there was a counseling program to be held in Room 405 that would help her get her education back on track, and that he could lift the expulsion that the school held on her should she choose to attend this program. Apparently the program was to be led by a Mrs. Cornelia Anderson, a teacher that Regina personally didn't know and most certainly never met. Between that and the mentioning there'd be... other, troubled students that were all assigned to take this program, Regina grew wary over the whole thing. So she asked the principal if she could come back to him on it, and immediately talked it over with Dr. Evan, who advised her to attend it. Reluctantly accepting the offer, Regina requested the right to back out at any time, but the principal stated that that would mean reinstating her expulsion. That could only mean one thing; once again, it'd be time for Regina to put on a brave face.

Slightly taller than the average person his age, Varrien stands at a height of 173cm (5' 8"), and weighs in at 64kg (141lbs). His attire is surprisingly presentable considering the sheer length of his life that he spent homeless. True, there are traces of dirt hither and thither, but it's nothing that common laundry detergent can't remove. Varrien has a scar just below his right eye that was caused by the grazing of a blade slash, though it seems to have healed. His blood red eyes are piercing in nature, and always moving as he takes note of his surroundings.


(Gun not included)

When it comes down to it, Varrien views life as one big colossal game of chess. He's aware that there are more than 4 billion people chaotically "thrown" across the world in all different directions as opposed to 16 pieces arranged for each player in an organised fashion, but his analogy of it remains the same. White makes the first move. Playing pieces are defeated. Pawns get promoted into more powerful figures. Queens can move almost anywhere they damn well please. There are good moves and there are bad ones. There are strategies that may sound good in theory, but are prone to falling flat in practice. But at the end of the day, all that matters is that the King has a place to move whenever he's put in check. This is why Varrien takes his time thinking about what might be an idea for his next move and what the consequences will be should he follow through with it... though it may be more correct to say that he's silently brooding over his next move and its consequences. Nonetheless, Varrien is a realist, and is meticulously cautious with his plotting towards his goals.

Varrien often chooses to stay quiet most of the time, and keeps everything he ever thinks about to himself. He may have no qualms responding to whoever speaks to him and addresses him personally, but he rarely initiates a conversation, instead preferring to keep his eyes and ears open and observe the populace that he's among. When he does speak, Varrien's words are brief and to the point, if not with an ominous meaning behind them. They way he focuses his eyes can be described equally to a hawk watching its prey. And he almost never softens his gaze, not even towards someone that he originally perceives as non-threatening. He has one reason for this and one reason alone: Things change. Stances... change. Unsurprisingly, the vast majority of Oxbridge Academy's students will just take one look at Varrien and his unrelenting leer and see him as little more than a creep. But those that look more deeply into his eyes see a stoic, hardened and unwavering individual, who it's clear has had to endure more than someone ever really should at his age.

Attempting to intimidate Varrien will only make him more leery than he already comes across on the surface, and he's difficult to provoke overall. But that doesn't mean that he'll appreciate being tested; he holds a lot of spite and hatred bottled inside of him after all, and some of it will be unleashed at just such an occasion. He makes no apologies for any feelings that he hurts along the way. After all, Varrien didn't come to Oxbridge Academy to make friends. He went there to learn things. And if he's not learning about the subject that he and the class are supposed to be learning about, he'll learn a little more around the classmates that surround him; either that, or he'll learn a little more about what tries the teacher's patience. Sometimes it's these little trinkets of information that make Varrien's day. Earning Varrien's trust is a tall order, and before he even thinks about placing it on anyone in particular, he'll want to know as much about that person as he possibly can.

"Trust is like a mirror," he says, "It might not be impossible to fix... but you can still see the crack in that motherfucker's reflection."

Varrien Morton grew up in the streets of Detroit, where crime was through the roof and gang-related violence was not uncommon at all. Both of his parents were caught in the crossfire of a turf war and were shot down as collateral damage, and police only barely got to the scene by the virtue of one squad vehicle conducting a routine patrol. Varrien was only 6 years old at the time, and he had no idea they even left the house since he was asleep. However, when news of his parents' death actually reached him, he took it as well as one would expect a child to take such dreadful news... that is to say, not well in the slightest. Wondering what the hell he was going to do, Varrien immediately went to stockpile everything in his parents possession, thinking that if all the zombie apocalypse movies he watched had ever taught him anything, it was that keeping track of one's inventory would be essential to survival. It was several minutes into this stockpiling that Varrien found a pistol inside one pillow on his parents' bed. He assumed his father got it in order to protect the family from home invaders... ironic, considering he never thought to take it with him, or alternatively thought that he shouldn't, when he and Varrien's mother went out the night that they died. Varrien didn't want to take it; the very sight of it angered him for reminding him of the cruel way his parents lost their lives. But the realist in him considered it a necessary evil, so he hid it underneath his shirt and continued on. He needed something on him when it came time to leave the house, after all.

Extracting all the cash from his parents' bank accounts and scrunching through their usual bills to get an idea of their expenses, Varrien figured that he could only afford to stay in his own home for 4 more months, and no amount of rationing could buy him any more time. He did the best he could though, and he was smart to consume the perishables first while he could still afford to keep the refrigerator running, before moving onto the canned goods. He also had that long to decide what to take into the unforgiving wasteland that was Detroit with him, and there were a lot of things that he'd have no choice but to abandon and leave to thieves who would later break in to raid the house. Eventually though, Varrien decided that he'd back in one pillow, some blankets, a few of his father's old clothes that he'd eventually grow into, a few of his own clothes, a large canister of water and whatever food was leftover, all stuffed into the largest backpack he could find in the house. He also managed to squeeze in a box of matches and a ream or two of printer paper, which he wanted to take since he'd never know when he'd need to start a fire to keep warm with. And he crammed in a bar of soap as well, in case he ever passed by a pond or a river or another large body of water.

And so Varrien began his journey as a homeless person, slowly but surely drifting away from the house he used to live in and ever so closer to Detroit's city center. He definitely had more than his fair share of close calls over the years. These ranged from his first mugger encounter at the age of 8, almost being run down by a drunk driver at the age of 9 (who Varrien would not have seen coming had he not developed a stronger sense of night vision), passing by a riot that occurred later that year only to take a rock to the face, getting into a fist fight at 12 that he barely won... he even would've risked third degree burns back at 11 if not for his reflexes, when some jackass lifted a barrel that he'd previously lit a fire in to stay warm and threw it straight at him and his stuff, the fire torching some of it in the process. Those were just the more violent close calls, and there was no counting the number of run-ins he had with the police for a whole mess of misdemeanors. Eventually though, after 7 of the longest and most painstaking years of his life, Varrien finally made it to an airport that would take him away from Detroit forever...

...only for him to immediately be sent to juvenile hall for pick-pocketing a noble in London. Varrien was sure that he successfully got away, but the apprehending officer said that someone bore witness to the chase that ensued and phoned the station to report it, which would explain why he got caught in the end. Scoffing at this display of bad luck, Varrien reluctantly complied with the officer, and made no attempt to resist. But he supposed it wasn't all bad. At least he'd have a roof over his head for the first time in 7 years, and he'd be sure when exactly he'd get his next meal as well. He was set to release due to serving the necessary time, but on the last day, he had a run-in with a thug that had beef with him, and this thug had his own idea of settling it. Brandishing a makeshift blade, the inmate lunged at Varrien, who was barely able to avoid getting cut. Varrien was able to disarm the thug with a well-placed karate chop, but the guards forcibly separated the two before the fight could escalate out of control, and the warden slapped on another 6 month sentence for both of them.

When due time was spent, Varrien was set out on probation, on the condition that he'd be looked after by a parole officer to ensure that he didn't get into any more trouble. The officer assigned to this role, a Constable Vera Hackman, had noted that Varrien had nowhere to go, and thus offered him a place to stay at her loft. This was a win-win situation, really. On the one hand, Varrien would have a roof over his head as well as a guaranteed supply of food on the table each day, and on the other, Vera would have a much easier time keeping an eye on him as per her job. They discussed a few things a few things, such as few events of Varrien's life that he was willing to share, a few typical English customs, Vera's lack of love life and her weight issues... y'know, generic small talk. While she was on the subject of discussing options for Varrien's schooling though, Vera had an idea, and gave a call to her younger sister who was a teacher at Oxbridge Academy. Through this call, Vera discovered that the academy had recently put through a counseling program which they've dedicated a classroom known as Room 405 to, and by the sound of its description, Varrien would be a prime candidate for said program. Vera looked over to Varrien while she was still on the phone, and Varrien in turn shrugged his shoulders, implying that he really didn't care. The sister then patched Vera through to the principal of the school who, albeit reluctantly, signed Varrien on to the program and had him enrolled in the process.

...

Hopefully this would be the new leaf that Varrien would turn over.