Primed and groomed and ill-prepared -- the Plastic Man stalks stock-stiff, patently uncomfortable in casual wear, blonde hair slicked back regardless, adamantly. The rain settles on his black sports jacket, zipped to the nape, the folded corners of a dress shirt underneath. The man’s eyes flit through the inclimate, presenting varying impressions, that of the lost, unaccustomed, wealthy tourist and of one riding high on suspicion. He couldn’t possibly be carrying anything but the clothes on his back, his wedding band, and the bare necessities in the pockets of his slacks. A lanky, otherwise ordinary, man with a conscious keep of posture that stands him up taller -- he exudes modernity, he exudes business -- he is the baseline in both regards -- and projects no sense of personality. Is it possible to be well-known and workaday at once?

Kellogg crosses the parking lot in long strides. He is looking behind him; he catches the door being held for him at the last moment before breaking into a stride to oblige. The pleasantries pass, fortuitously fast as the storeowner senses a concernment. He gives his cue, a question, and Kellogg recites, “Have you seen my daughter? Five feet, dirty-blonde? About fifteen? She was just with me.”

*****

» *****: (On/about his curse.)
» Puppet Master: A father of two and C-Executive of a mega-corporation’s purchased derivative, Kellogg understands dominance, compromise, and discipline. He has the components of a learned leader.
» Apple of the Public Eye: Kellogg maintains a personable presence through social media, interviews, and public events, albeit not as the next Zuckerberg -- yet. He has his finger on the contemporary pulse though has been reputed to be far more stringent, “awkward,” in person. Nonetheless, he makes do as a decent conversationalist and his image is a well-maintained and positive one.

» Convictionless; drifting through life in an incessant state of apathy and self-ignorance, where everything is alright or will show itself to be, in time. Kellogg finds emotional displays difficult even to fabricate, empathy in its most basal forms impossible to replicate, and morals... optional in big business anyway, thereby impractical to address.
» Conceptually, a Family Man: A family man without attachment -- frankly, without a family. Without a wife to do the ‘kids’ thing for him; he thought he could manage through imitation. This has not gone as planned.

The plan was to pass through en route to Connecticut, site of some ostentatious gala recognizing middle-school students apart of the ‘Taking the High Ground’ initiative -- he’s long forgotten what the initiative was for, likely environmental. There was only so many movements they could ally with as the “pigs,” in company parlance, of Tuscany Meat Packaging tended to shrink conservatively from social activism.

That was neither here nor there now. The kids were only with him at this point for practicality; they had nowhere else to go. Of course, he’d left Theo in the motel room anyway after the boy’s insistence of “not being hungry.” Chloe and him went to dinner alone, and it would be dashed to just him after thirty minutes waiting in the car only for her to never emerge, no context. And now he acts on the implication that she up and walked into town, alone. So, alone, he wanders into the heart of Brier Hill in pursuit, failing to understand anything but his own obligation to protect her, obstinate to hold some length of control over the situation all the same.

The image above is a mere approximation of Abigail’s appearance.
A short and bony waif of a girl with a crop of lanky, thin blonde hair and noticeably large ears. Abigail has pasty skin which is almost always covered in grime, scars, bruises and a couple of spots, an upturned nose and a smattering of freckles (or incredibly stubborn specks of dirt) under her bulbous, watery eyes. Despite her age, she carries herself with the twitchy restlessness of an energetic child. Despite her experience, her gaze brightens with the insatiable curiosity of a shut-in.

Abigail does as much as she can to bulk herself up against the frigid chill of the fogs in Briar Hill, often wearing multiple layers, oversized jackets and dark coloured beanies. She wears fairly neutral and dark colours to try and retain her inconspicuousness at the expense of the dull hues bringing out her sickly pallor. The wardrobe is meagre, well-worn and clearly second hand. She only owns two pairs of shoes - a pair of tattered running trainers and oversized hiking boots.

Curse of Servitude

» Obedient: From dawn to sundown, Abigail must follow every direct command she is given - be it vocal or written. All commands and their effects are immediately nullified at night. The only mode of resistance is finding loopholes in the phrasing of the order. The only exception to the rule are orders to physically harm herself or others, and orders to stop following orders.
» Dropout: For obvious reasons, Abigail left school quite early on. She does not have the necessary qualifications for any high-income jobs and instead works for her keep. On the bright side, her work ethic is phenomenal, as one would expect with almost two decades of practice. She is methodical and efficient in most of the chores she unwillingly undertakes.
» Crafty: With little else to do aside from her shift jobs, and no real friends to talk to, Abigail has taken up a whole host of creative hobbies to keep herself occupied - she knits, sews, and bakes on a regular basis. An inquisitive sprite at heart, Abigail is quick to pick up new skills and enjoys learning new things.

» At Your Service: Being manipulated (intentionally or otherwise) by a great deal of the people you meet brings about an intense disgust and wariness towards other people. Abigail’s fears of being forced into another chore by a stranger has developed into a somewhat standoffish nature that only makes it all the harder for her to fit in.
» Through Rain or Snow: Some of Abigail’s commands, though not directly dangerous to her wellbeing, have dealt blows to her immune system - primarily through exposure. To this day, she is quick to fall ill and slow to recover. Though she combats this with a rigourous exercise routine and healthy eating, the damage has already been done...

Abigail is simply looking for a way to offset the effects of the curse - even if it requires constant reapplication every day. Aside from the blindingly obvious, Abigail is also looking for a way to become fully independent, even with her curse.

This is the girl your mamma warned you about! A young temptress adorned with a modest crown of raven hair, styled and kept short to her liking. She stands taller than the average girl her age at just under six foot with a proportionally sized body. Her face delicately made up, always paying special attention to the contours of her eyes as if to elicit something more primal inside of her.

When she walks on stage she commands a presence, the lights always seem to shine on her just right, showing off exactly what she wants others to see. Opting to wear anything that will get a look but never willing to show her skin, making sure to stay far away from dresses, shorts, and skirts. Beneath her rock star fashion facade is nothing but torment. The signs of her anguish take the form of several hundred self inflicted wounds, scars to remind her that he's always there.

Violent Specter

» Incessant Chatter: Almost all children have had an imaginary friend in their life but they tend to grow up and realize that it's just a silly game. Cassidy however was not so lucky. As she got older the voice simply became stronger and more prevalent. Chiding and coaxing her to start fires, get into fights, and eventually cut herself. The echo in her young mind had finally revealed itself to be a prolific yet unidentified serial killer. He refuses to give his name but constantly begs her for blood. She often comes off as rather odd or manic when others catch her talking to the spirit that is seemingly linked with her.
» Tortured Artist: She chooses to use the violence and hate inside her to write powerful music with her renowned rock band. Her lyrics never fail to speak to the disenfranchised youths of world, making her a somewhat competent orator as well. While the carnage inside of her is immense, she never lost her creative edge. She doesn't travel far without her notebook, never knowing when the urge to write a song will sneak up on her. Often caught whistling or humming to calm herself down when the voice becomes overbearing.
» Fame: Cassidy isn't very modest when it comes to her stardom. Prone to lash out or offend others when she doesn't get her way. She's lost touch with a large portion of her old life simply because of the money and lifestyle that comes with being a famous singer. She's an avid drinker and partier, often choosing the most expensive items to aid her debauchery.

» Bloodletting: Cassidy can only quell the tired screams of the spirit by opening her own flesh. When all is said and done the specter is satisfied enough with the act and briefly leaves her be. While it seems to keep his ministrations satisfied she fears for the day when her own blood is not enough.
» Letting him in:When she isn't mentally paying attention she often finds herself giving control to her passenger. It's usually extremely brief but in those delicate moments she is completely gone, giving the killer the freedom to do as he pleases, even if it's just for a moment. The act feels almost like a blackout for her, waking up groggy and confused about what just occurred. While she isn't fully aware of her surroundings she knows what and who is causing it.

Ridding herself of the dark passenger and all the demonic urges he harbors is her ultimate goal. To live a life without the voice of that abhorrent man talking about the pleasures of murder and desecration every day. Her wish is to somehow exorcise the lingering soul or even destroy him.