[@Surtr Inc]I said tomorrow yesterday, so I guess I gotta post this today or I'd look like a real jerk. [hider=**Rita Vorona**] [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLmJmYzRjNS5VbWwwWVNCV2IzSnZibUUsLjA,/divat.regular.png[/img] [img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d4/bf/93/d4bf9315cfc47db1c67b9ad948f0a738.jpg[/img] [h1]╚══════════════╝[/h1] [i]"What? Do you have a question or something?"[/i] [h3][ [b] 18[/b] | [b]5’2”[/b] | [b]Greek-Polish[/b] [b]She/Her[/b] | [b]105 lbs[/b] ][/h3] [h1][i]Doubt[/i][/h1] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5H-YlcMSbc[/youtube][/center] [h3][u][b] APPEARANCE [/b][/u][/h3] [i]”Is it normal to spend so much time in front of a mirror to end up looking this blasé?"[/i] [indent][indent]Rita’s mother has the body of a Greek goddess; Rita, unfortunately, takes after her father. Her brown eyes, already sunken and small to begin with, are bloodshot from a lack of sleep and an overabundance of allergies. Her fairly full lips only manage to form meager smiles on the occasion, her gap teeth that she hates always kept hidden from public in all but the most genuine of reactions. Her dark brown hair is straight and oily no matter what she does to it, with bangs that cover her thick eyebrows and the aftermath of a brutal battle with acne on her forehead from her adolescence. Her nose slants ever so slightly to the left from when she broke it, and there is a small scar underneath her chin from when she once fell off of her bike and clipped the corner of a brick. Her skin tone is fairly light, but her Greek roots do allow for her to get a rather wicked tan if she tries. She’s a petite girl with a straight, modest build. Rita’s in fairly decent shape due to her constantly biking around town when she can, and she’d die before she admits it but she’s really proud of how her butt looks in jeans. Her clothes fit her very well, but her style is fairly conservative and has been described by one of her peers as “dad-esque”—collared shirts and cardigans paired with jeans and roughed-up white sneakers. The most risque she has ever been seen in public is capris and a polo with all but the bottom button unbuttoned. She almost never takes off the black “I <3 NY” bracelet that she wears on her right wrist, and she’s particularly fond of using vibrant hair scrunchies to contrast the drab, neutral tones of her outfits. Rita manages to make herself always appear to be uncomfortable regardless of where she is, prone to unwarranted flinches and shrunken shoulders. Her face defaults to a pensive and distant stare, although one can truly tell when she is actually in deep thought by how intensely she is sucking in her lip. Her voice is quiet and tight, as if the act of speaking is a chore in it of itself, and an obvious Texan accent betrays her as not being a local. [/indent][/indent] [h3][u][b] PSYCHOLOGY [/b][/u][/h3] [i]”Does anyone really know how to properly assess themselves?"[/i] [indent][indent][indent] [b]MAIN GOAL ⫻[/b] The whole point of going to college is to get away from home and cripple yourself with debt through student loans, so mission accomplished. Otherwise, trying to actually settle on a future plan would be kind of important. [b]PHILOSOPHY ⫻[/b] Life is chaos and coincidence, and the only way to get through it is to swim with the river and pray that it doesn’t rush her over a waterfall and smash her against some jagged rocks. There’s no certainty that what is true today will be tomorrow, and that sucks. [b]SECRETS ⫻[/b] She keeps a journal and regularly writes poems. Somehow this deepy embarrasses her. Oh, and Rita is short for Margarita—and there’s no question about it, she was named for the drink. [b]DESIRES ⫻[/b] In one of her more bitter moments she’d say that all she wants is to meet someone who isn’t a backbiting, selfish son of a bitch, but really she’s more looking to be accepted above anything else. Also, a motorcycle. [b]SEXUALITY ⫻[/b] The few relationships she has had with boys always left her feeling more drained and defeated than anything. Still, she’s pretty certain that she is heterosexual, because her friendships with girls have typically made her feel even worse. [b]FEARS ⫻[/b] Dolls. Something about their eyes and the way they are designed to be perfect doesn’t sit well with her. On a deeper level she fears betrayal and being rejected, but really there’s just something about the porcelain skin and the tiny little clothes of a doll that is just so creepy. [b]REPUTATION ⫻[/b] Back home she was the mousy girl who read pretentious books in a desperate attempt to make herself appear more intelligent than she actually was. But now she’s a blank slate, open and ready to be painted as the “quiet one” yet again. [b]PET PEEVES ⫻[/b] Lying is a big one, but she truly can’t stand people talking behind another’s back. Part of it is because she feels guilty for being associated with something she disagrees with, and part of it is because she fears that they must be talking about her when she is away. She has ruined more than a few budding friendships by directly confronting people about the nasty things they have said about someone in front of the person that they had been bad mouthing. [b]QUIRKS ⫻[/b] Rita has a bad case of the fidgets. She’s a knee shaker, a toe tapper, a finger drummer, a pen clicker, a coin weaver, a hair curler, and just about anything else that can keep her hands and feet busy. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [h3][u][b] BACKSTORY [/b][/u][/h3] [i]”Ready to be let down?"[/i] [indent][indent] Dear (New) Diary, How does a girl born in a small town in Shithole, Texas end up moving to the even smaller town of Bumfuck, Montana? Well, the short answer is she’s taking a forty-four hour long Greyhound ride to attend Grand Ridge. That’s where the girl is at right now; stuck in the aisle seat next to a man with the world’s smallest bladder and the thirstiest mouth. The long answer is people. Three people, actually. Old Diary knew all about these people, but we don’t talk to Old Diary anymore. Old Diary is dead to me. We only have eyes for New Diary. The first person was the mother. The girl lived with the mother in 3C of Sunshine Apartments, and for as long as she can remember the girl and the mother hated each other. The mother resented the girl—if it wasn’t for her, she could land herself a good man and get out of Shithole. The girl resented the mother—if it wasn’t for her, she wouldn’t have been born in Shithole. They could’ve called it even there, but then that’d require one of them to admitting that they were at fault. Plus, the girl felt that the crimes of the mother greatly outway the crimes of not being polite to the strange men that would claim to be the mother’s friend and then break her heart a week later. See, the girl was brutally teased by the boys who told her that they had seen her mom’s tits last weekend, which was obviously untrue in fifth grade but come highschool and fake IDs to get inside the strip club it had a chance to be accurate. Girls were even worse. They’d say, “Your mom is so pretty”, which meant “So why aren’t you?” But, worst of all, the mother did not want the girl, she just wanted her freedom. Every year she asked “So, when are ya moving out?”and every year it became clearer that the question was not tongue-in-cheek. But the father was perhaps worse than the mother. He was fun and kind, and the girl would spend weekends with him in Corpus Christi where they’d go to the beach or ride bikes. He’d buy her ridiculously expensive gifts for her birthday and for Christmas, and every summer they’d go travel together for a week. New York City was her favorite trip. It was also her last trip with him. When the girl was fifteen he gave her the best present somebody can possibly give someone—the truth. He had been married for the last eight years and had another daughter of seven, and now he felt like she was old enough to understand why it was impossible for her to permanently live with him. I’m sure you already guessed it, New Diary, but the girl wasn't. She still isn’t. She doubts she’d every be old enough to understand that. But, even if she couldn’t understand it, she did know what he was saying: he didn’t want the girl, he just wanted a buddy. Then there was her friend, not boyfriend. She wanted not boyfriend to be her boyfriend for years, but the girl was too stupid to say anything until senior year. After not boyfriend had been dating her best friend for a year. At prom. In front of everyone. While drunk. It was harrowing how embarrassing the entire thing was, and the girl ran out of the prom. Now, in the movie version of this story the not boyfriend would chase after her and admit that he liked her too and then they would kiss and the credits would roll and we’d assume everything worked out. In the real life version the not boyfriend did chase after her, and he admitted he liked her, and they did kiss, and then the credits did not roll and she screwed him, and then he didn’t talk to her the next day at school. And her best friend did not talk to her at the next day of school. And her best friend’s friends did not talk to her at the next day of school. Eventually the girl heard through the grapevine that not boyfriend didn’t want the girl; he just wanted a girl before he went to college, and she was clearly more willing to put out than the one he had. So the girl figured, hell, if they don’t want me in Texas, then I don’t want them either. She didn’t pick Grand Ridge because it was prestigious or because of its a good school to study to become an actuary, but because it was a forty-four hour bus ride from home. The girl struck herself a deal with a private room for the summer on Airbnb and hopped on a bus the week after she graduated. She was even invited by her future roommate to go on a camping trip with some other students. So, screw it, it’s time to shed her wallflower petals and turn a new leaf. She really hopes this isn’t going to be some hazing bullshit. Sincerely, A girl named Margarita P.S. thirty times. He went to the bathroom thirty times in forty-four hours. [/indent][/indent] [h3][u][b] SKILLS & TALENTS [/b][/u][/h3] [i]”Should I put these on my résumé?"[/i] [indent][indent][indent] [b]Sewing ⫻[/b] Rita can’t afford to purchase new clothes, so being able to patch up old outfits and properly fit thrift shop hauls is essential. [b] Cycling ⫻[/b] She rides her bike almost every single day. Mostly it’s out of necessity—she doesn’t have a car—but she enjoys the exercise and finds it fun to ride. She even knows a few minor tricks that only result in her eating asphalt one out of every four times. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [h3][u][b] ABSTRACTION [/b][/u][/h3] [i]"Can I ask you something?"[/i] [indent][indent] [b]SIGIL & LOCATION ⫻[/b] Four black lines circle the fingers on her left hand and then travel down her palm before terminating at the bend in her arm. [b]ABSTRACTION ⫻[/b] Question Master, the ability to compel someone to tell the truth (and other fun things) by simply asking a question. [b]ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻[/b]Question Master allows Rita to expel her doubt about others. Whenever she is in a conversation with someone that person is compelled to answer any of the questions she asks with what they believe to be the truth. This is not an ability she can will on or off: every single question she asks forces the answerer to give the truth if they heard her. The ability can only be focused on one individual at a time, directed through her maintaining eye contact on the target—so people around the corner who hear the question don’t feel obligated to chime in too. If she wants to let someone answer uninfluenced, she could always just avoid looking at them. Her questions can range from narrow to broad, but the more specific or direct ones tend to wield better results as a person is compelled only to answer the question, not to compulsively tell the truth about every single thing they are keeping a secret. For example, asking if someone was lying would only get them to say yes or no, while asking what someone was lying about would get them to divulge a bit more information. Furthermore, asking someone about everything they lied about would result in them going down a laundry list of how far back they could remember. So, it’s best to be thoughtful in her probing. The Blind cannot sense that she is making them answer her truthfully. However, they are fully aware of the words coming out of their mouths after they finish telling the truth. If they had intended to tell the truth than no harm no foul, but if they had intended to lie then they completely think that they just had a pretty harrowing slip of the tongue. This means that is rare for someone to sit down with Rita and air out all of their dirty laundry. After all, people tend to try to duck out of conversations pretty quickly once it gets awkward. [b]IN THE PRESENCE OF THE MOUNTAIN ⫻[/b] She puts the master part into Question Master. Rita’s questions take on a much stronger influence in regards to the Blind. They become suggestions that people are compelled to follow, although just because she suggests someone does something it does not necessarily mean that they will succeed in whatever the act is. She still has to say it in a question like, “Why don’t you give me twenty dollars?” for it to take effect, but the action does not have to be immediate. For example, she could ask someone if they would leave town next Saturday and they would have to. Once a suggestion is fulfilled the person is no longer compelled to follow it, so to use the previous example the moment they left town on that Saturday they could just as well immediately head right back into it. [b]AURA SENSING ⫻[/b] Rita’s aura works like a search engine for recent conversations. She can focus on key phrases or names and scan for conversations that have happened in a 30 meter radius within the last hour. Any positive results highlight the aura of the individual who had talked about the certain subject for 15 minutes. Undeniably, she frequently uses this to see if anyone has been talking about her behind her back. [b]LIMITS ⫻[/b] (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU) [b]WEAKNESSES ⫻[/b] (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU) [/indent][/indent] [h3][u][b] OTHER [/b][/u][/h3] [i]"Seriously, aren’t you tired of asking questions?"[/i] [indent][indent][hider=a poem, about texas][center]thorns by r.v. roses are red, violets are blue. actually no, that’s not quiet true, roses can be red, but also white and pink and orange, while violets are just violet, obviously. i guess like everything else, they lied about that, too.[/center][/hider][/indent][/indent] [/hider]