[h3][b]A Happy Life[/b][/h3] [hider]It would be lying to say she had a perfect life. For one thing, she hadn’t really wanted to move to Halcyon City, no matter how important Papa’s work was. She was supposed to go to school in Paris! All her friends were in Paris! Mama would have to live there for another couple years anyway because of how important her work was! Celestine was the one who really wanted to go, why not just let her visit? But as it turned out there was a lot to like about Halcyon City, too. The lights! The nightlife! ASTERION! It was a cool place. And it was really cool getting to live in a high rise penthouse. True, that was only until Papa’s work on… um… what was it again? Advanced Cognitive… um… [i]Je Ne Sais Pas Quois.[/i] The point is, it was only until the research grant ran out. They weren’t rich or anything, but it was a fun taste of the high life. Go to school, come back home, call Mama, plan a chic party for Friday night, get dinner ready for her little sister Celestine, be the dutiful daughter Papa needed to feel comfortable working so late so often. A lot of responsibility, but not a bad life. Truly. Friends, fashion, and fun! Especially when she snuck out at night. Étoile loved photography. Cityscapes! Bridges! The lights and colors and lines of a place that only came to life when the sun set and boring, useless drudgery went to sleep! Let Celestine sit at the coffee table all day facetiming Papa about all their weird… science… [i]stuff.[/i] Étoile had a master’s eye for composition, and she was in better shape than either of them. See, the secret to amazing shot composition was the angle. You had to see the city the way other people couldn’t. You had to show them the side of the place they lived that they were too busy and too distracted to notice on their own. That meant you had to look at a ceiling and see the arrangement of the desks in a classroom. You had to look at bridge scaffolding and see the waterways beneath it. You had to see rooftops and spires and see the roads that joined them together. An alleyway was a window, and a tunnel was a peak up the skirt of a dozen shops and businesses. Most importantly, you had to look at all the things people built to keep you out of the places they didn’t want you hanging from, and see a path. Parkour was a French invention, anyway. Just like everything else worth enjoying. Someday, she dreamed, she’d change the world. Someday she’d expose some aspect of inequality inherent to city life and be hailed a hero. She’d do… she’d do something, you know, something amazing, make people see the world the way that she did and be a star. Haha, it’s a funny joke, you see? Because she… nevermind. What she didn’t realize was that the world would change around her, instead. They came. They came for her city and they saw it from an angle even she’d never dreamed of. They came and they took and they found her. She still remembers the phone call. Papa telling her to get back home, get your sister, do not leave. His voice was so strained. He was trying so hard not to sound scared, or to shout. He shouted anyway. I’m coming for you both! Don’t move until I get there! Don’t let Celestine out of your sight! Stay home! Stay safe! I love you, I’m coming! But it was the Lynxes in their slinky gold armor who came for them instead. Her rescue took the form of restraining rods and spreader bars. When they got tired of her telling Celestine that things would be ok, and then screaming to let them stay together as they got pulled apart, it took the form of an awful tasting foam gag too.[/hider] [h3][b]Reeducation[/b][/h3] [hider]An Annunaki Academy is not a place of learning. There are classes and there are tests, sure, but don’t be fooled. The Academy is a gauntlet. It’s a sieve; a way to separate the gold from detritus. They prod your body and make you climb ropes and catch balls so they can see how fit your body is for grueling, difficult tasks. Or tricks! They might want you for entertainment, instead! They hand classes colorful puzzles and tangled messes of rings to be arranged into neat, orderly piles. This is to test your mental adroitness. The Annunaki love a clever slave (do not be confused: they do not love a [i]smart[/i] one). They make you memorize long registries of songs and rituals, to test your ability to be properly devout. Sacrilege is not tolerated. The schedule is brutal. Up before dawn, ten hours a day of training, training, training! Obstacle courses and obedience seminars and impossibly dense lectures, all followed by test after test after test after test, graded on capricious and impenetrable curves. Those stupid enough to complain get dragged off for Disciplinary Actions. Back in the dorms they call them “spankies”. Étoile was scared and stubborn when she started School. She looked for the angles and turned them into escape routes. Then she would get caught and get paddled and swatted in the room with that weird pink incense until she couldn’t sit still, walk straight, or think clearly through the haze and the tears. They made her promise to be a good girl. If she fought, if she spoke back, if she peeled off her veil, that naughty girl, she’d be dragged back in for Disciplinary Action. Eventually her attempts became half hearted at best. Her rebellion took the form of minimum effort schooling, instead. And if that’s how things had stayed? They might actually have broken her. Maybe she would have been kicked back down to live with the Beasts and toil in the mines with her spirit still angrily smouldering, or maybe they’d have doused her completely and gotten a docile, pretty dancing girl to serve drinks and shimmy her adorable waist. Instead an overzealous guard made everything about threatening her sister if she didn’t straighten out immediately. They got their Good Girl. But they also put the spark of rebellion in Étoile’s heart permanently. The trick was a simple shift in perspective. Learn what each teacher was looking for and then give them that exact thing. Some expected her to be simpering and obedient, and so she was. Some expected her to show initiative and cleverness, and so she did. Some expected her to be an agile little minx and some expected a clumsy ditz. Whatever mask they wanted, she wore. Good girl! Good girl, Étoile! Disciplinary Action turned into rewards and extra privileges almost overnight. They swapped out her gauzy veil for a richer, more opaque one to better hide just how desirable she really was. We can’t have our staff thinking lewd thoughts about you, sweetie. They put her in a nicer room, and they let her have tiny tastes of freedom. Because she was trusted, she got to weaponize it. The cruelest, laziest guards and staff got sold out for punishments of their own. The people she saw who needed breaks got overlooked when they would mess up or speak out. It wasn’t much, especially at first. But it was what she could do. Étoile graduated early. With honors! A Five-Star Candidate, highly capable! Put this one on the Administrative Track and watch her shine! Give her specialty tasks, she’ll flourish, don’t worry, we promise! Just look at her lovely golden hair! An exotic beauty! Open your purses good sirs and madams, she’ll be the most adorable good luck charm to ever adorn your chambers! Come one, come all, and bid! Étoile was purchased by a high-ranking ab-Marduki general. She screamed and she cried, and she begged not to be separated from her sister, Papa told her not to leave her behind! But that was of no use. She was purchased. She was owned. Her wishes did not matter, and now she had a very important job to do. Her job was… everything! Cook, little French girl! Clean! Listen! Attend! Model! Bathe! Wait, what? Yes, she’d heard correctly. She was a present for the seneschal’s daughter: the beautiful, tender-hearted Lady Tamytha who was too frail for the important work and politics her station demanded. A headache the seneschal was sick of being responsible for. Now Étoile would tend to her every need.[/hider] [h3][b]You’re Not Me![/b][/h3] [hider]Étoile was a slave now, every minute of every day. She couldn’t kid herself about it. She wasn’t a “student”, and she wasn’t a secret rebel. She had a collar around her neck that told everyone she met at a glance who owned her. She had no tests and no more downtime, just endless chores and expectations. She played the role of the ideal servant every minute of every day (quiet, obedient, never needing to be asked twice, but still bubbly enough to never seem a threat), but her reward was simply that she was not punished. Well, that’s not exactly true. It was… complicated. Most of the household was sneering and cruel toward her, but her Lady, the one who she ostensibly actually worked for, was perhaps the kindest Annunaki Étoile had ever met. It’s just, she was still Annunaki. If Étoile did a good job, she’d get showered in effusive praise. She’d get her head pat and told she was a good girl. If she did a bad job, she’d get scolded and made to stand in a corner. Then.. she’d get her head pat and told she was a good girl, and that her Lady was sorry she had to be so strict. If she was a very good girl, she’d get an hour of Playtime, which involved… um. It… you know what? We’ll come back to this. So it was a charmed life, by the standards of being a pet. She couldn’t bring herself to hate Tamytha, not the least of reasons being that it was impossible to hate someone who suffered so much. All those migraines and fainting spells and coughing fits, and the bleeding, and… ahem. But still, everything else around her screamed at her to do something, do anything to fight. She did what she could. But there was only so much message passing and hand squeezing she could do. It felt like she was sliding further backwards every day. Every time a Resistance contact passed her in the hallway, now a drooling, giggly mess, she felt a fresh surge of terror in her heart. She was accomplishing little and less. More and more people were getting hurt. Maybe… maybe she should stop. But the spark said no. And one night, the spark made her sneak out into the city, just like she used to when you could safely call it 20XX. She was looking for… she didn’t know. Maybe she could find an AEGIS contact. If she got some real, official guidance from the real, official heroes, maybe she could… maybe she could… Get caught and pulled into a dark alley by an Annunaki patrol! Étoile tried to scream, but the hand was clamped firmly over her mouth. She tried to run, but she was dangling a foot off the ground. She tried to kick free, but they pinned her so tightly that all she could do was squirm. Useless. She was useless. And now she’d… and now she’d! Her eyes shined like wet sapphires in the night. “Shhh, little one. Dumuzid lives.” And then she was alone, with only the pounding in her chest and a crumpled sheet of paper (paper!!) in her hands to tell her anything had happened here at all. At first glance, the note was frustratingly blank. No explanation, no grand reveal. Just a picture of a sheep, and an address scrawled inside of its wool. In… in Papa’s handwriting. She tore the note to shreds, and she ran. She ran and she ran and she ran, vaulting over barricades and evading patrols by taking paths that weren’t paths at all, except to her. And when she reached the spot, breathless… Nothing. Her heart sank in bitter disappointment. Just a crumpled old notebook and a tiny pile of weirdly colored dust. Étoile flopped down on the ground next to the useless lump of paper and waited to get caught. Enough, she thought. No more wishing. No more hoping. Just go out, little spark. Let her rest. Let her spend the rest of her life as a dog or something. Just… She flipped through the notebook, to give her something to do while she waited. It was Papa’s writing again, his work this time. Advanced Cognitive Perception Via Theoretical Metaspace. What a mouthful; no wonder she could never remember it. Those weren’t even words, Papa. The rest of it made as little sense to her as the title, except… on the back, in fresher ink: Instructions. Diagrams. A little note, jammed right up against the margins. “Shine, my little star.” He’d given her a ritual. A prayer for strength. Something he’d cribbed from ancient Mesopotamian scriptures. She sat the way the instructions told her, she said the words, though she didn’t understand them, she snorted the dust, without stopping to let herself consider the ridiculousness of hoping in something so strange so soon after giving up. Shine, little star. She plunged into darkness. There was nothing, and no one, and when she screamed it was swallowed by the darkness, so that even she couldn’t hear it. She screamed again, because she had to do something, and her legs wouldn’t work so running was out. She screamed, and her screams took shape in the black. Her screams became a shadow, a figure so black she could see it even in this murk. It had a head like she did, only much too large and with a jaw on snakelike hinges. It had a body like a tiger’s, only again three times the size it ought to have been. It had swirling, tattered bits of… itself that stretched off in all directions. It had chains heaped on chains heaped on chains piled everywhere about it. And when it laughed, it did it in her own voice. “Hello, snack. Do you know who I am?” “A monster!” “Good guess! And half right,” it chuckled, “I’m you.” Étoile shook her head. She clapped her hands over her mouth and she cried. No, she whimpered, that simply couldn’t be. There was nothing this ugly inside of her. The monster snorted. It shook the air around them. Étoile squeaked, having run out of words already. “I am you,” it insisted, “The real you. Ohhh, woe is me! [i]Je suis triste![/i] Papa abandoned me! Cellie abandoned me! Nobody loves me, how can I do a thing to help myself? I’d rather pretend I have no power than have anything be my fault! Étoile has to be a good girl! I love it! Let me be your pet, Lady, please!!” She didn’t think that! She didn’t blame other people! It was just… just circumstance and bad luck and… and that wasn’t her! It wasn’t! She wasn’t an ugly selfish monster! And with every shriek of protestation, it giggled in her voice. And with every insult she hurled at it, the monster grew larger. Or she grew smaller. It was impossible to tell in this space. All she knew is that her own voice sounded thin and tiny and pathetic, and the monster’s boomed about her like thunder, and it opened up its jaw that could swallow twenty mountains just for her, and this was really it, wasn’t it, she was really going to die? And it really would be all her fault. If she’d ever listened to Papa, maybe she’d understand what he’d hoped she’d be doing right now. If she’d fought harder at the Academy, maybe she could have saved Cellie. Maybe she could have saved everyone. Or maybe she would have died or been thrown into the mines and left to suffer, but at least she’d have done it! At least she’d have been free and strong and fighting! Well… fine. This was fine. Maybe Monster-Her would take her place after this. Maybe she’d do a better job of things. Be strong and free and brave, and not content to hold a little spark inside her hand and call it a flame of rebellion. Yeah, ok, she’d been weak. A selfish jerk. She’d gotten comfy, and she’d let herself forget her promises. So just do it. Do it, ok, me? She opened her eyes as wide as she could, trying to at least stare down her end like a brave revolutionary should, and saw that she was not standing in front of a monster. It was a mirror. And this? Her? She was [i]strong[/i]. Étoile Ravenelle snuck straight back to her little room that night, and the next morning acted like nothing had happened. But there was a spring in her step that nobody would ever break again. She’d stared down the darkness inside her heart and made it hers. Now she wore it as she pleased. She was more than a slave. She was the face of the rebellion, whose name is [i]Marianne.[/i][/hider] [h3][b]One Girl, Many Faces[/b][/h3] [hider]Étoile spends the majority of every day serving as the right hand of her Lady. Every morning she draws the water for Lady’s bath and wakes her with gentle music, because she’s safest when she’s calm. She brings the herbal tea and the pills that come with it, and she eases her Lady into the water and gently washes every inch of her and rubs the oils into her hair. After that, her work begins. Cooking, cleaning, organizing files. And most importantly of all, modeling. Her Lady is not fit for politics, but loves to design fashions for all sorts of occasions. Étoile, with her slender frame and petite but fetching chest and hips, is a perfect mannequin, and must make herself available at all times of day when the inspiration strikes. In her “normal” life, Étoile wears a variety of outfits, though every one of them has a veil of some sort to keep her decent. Her clothes are slave clothes, by and by, mostly gauzy silks and floofy pants gathered together at the ankles with little bands of jewels to draw attention to her dainty slippers. A low cut top with slender sleeves and an exposed midriff to show off her pretty stomach and her shiny silver belly ring, chains that link her collar to the necklaces looped underneath it, and pretty silver armlets shining with tiny jewels. Plenty of eyeliner and shadow. Her golden blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, which is the height of fashion, apparently. You know, normal, boring clothes like anyone would wear. But sometimes, she gets to be someone other than Étoile. Sometimes, it’s… ok, do you remember when we agreed to come back to this? Sometimes, it’s Playtime. And then she’s not Étoile at all: she’s her Lady’s darling little [i]Lamassie.[/i] Which just… let’s just… there’s no way this isn’t appropriation, right? There are lynxes? All over the manor?? You know??? Are they really ok with the floofy ears on her silly headband, the tail poking through her gold silk underwear, and the shimmery, ridiculous wings flopping around on her back? There’s no way! No way… right? Well, in any case, Lady insists she’s not a cat. Space-cat. Whatever. She’s a Lamassu! A… listen, ok? With the mittens balling her fists into little paws, she feels an aaaawwwful lot like a cat, [i]n’est ce pas?[/i] Just please please please don’t let any Lynxes come to give reports while she’s busy chasing the squeaky mouse on a string. Ahem. Right. Sometimes she gets to be more than just Étoile. When her soul shines through the mask of her body, she wears the mantle of the phantom thief, Marianne. Dark and mysterious. Veilless! The scandal! The flair! But unlike many heroes who fight against the Annunaki, Marianne does not bare her face. Instead, she wears a series of closely linked gold chains in horizontal rows all the way from her forehead down to her neck, dotted here and there with bright rubies hanging on the ends of vertical chains crossing on either side of her face. She wears a long black hooded coat with a shredded end fluttering about just past her knees. Around her shoulders are a series of black, tiny chains threaded through with base metals shaped into spiky “teeth”, and a dangling necklace with the same chain/tooth pattern that dips into her slate gray v-necked button up blouse/vest combo. There’s another heavy iron chain looped around and around and around again on her waist that sits at an angle and dips below her right hip. Shredded gray slacks that completely expose both of her knees, and heavy black boots with the slightest hint of a heel. She wears bright red gloves on both of her hands, and on her forehead just under the chains it’s possible to see something shimmering in the shape of a vertical eye.[/hider] [h2]ÉTOILE RAVENELLE[/h2] [h3][i]MARIANNE[/i][/h3] [b]The Janus[/b] ABILITIES Heightened physical abilities (strength, agility, toughness) Supernatural senses Impossibile mobility Étoile has seen into the world of the heart, and thereafter has been gifted with the power to see the worlds people keep locked inside themselves. At its most basic, she can extend her senses to hear the song a person’s heart is singing at that moment. If she opens her third eye, she can perceive the actual shape of that person’s heart world and learn more about them then maybe even they know about themselves. While wearing the mask of Marianne she can push it even further and see flashes of the heart of the universe itself. The further off the page she looks, the more she can see. The feelings and memories held inside of buildings or gardens, shining lights like foxfire dangling about in the air where mysteries abound, a twisting path forward that’s made only for her feet… Additionally, her power is the freedom to go anywhere she pleases. She knows the ways that things are connected and can travel across these secret paths with ease. Diving into the corner of a wall and appearing out of a floor in another room is child’s play. Appearing on rooftops from the street, or inside the gears of a machine, or if she stretches herself enough, she might even put half of herself in the edges of one object while the rest of her leaks out of something seemingly not even touching. The world of angles and edges and chains is dangerous, but free running is about taking risks to go where nobody is supposed to be. LABELS DANGER +2 FREAK -1 SAVIOR +0 SUPERIOR -1 MUNDANE +3 POTENTIAL [X] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] CONDITIONS [ ] Afraid [ ] Angry [X] Guilty [ ] Hopeless [ ] Insecure RELATIONSHIPS ______ knew you from your civilian life first. You refused to tell ______ your secret identity when they asked. INFLUENCE You look up to your team, they seem to have this superhero thing figured out. Give two of them Influence over you. MOVES [b]The Mask[/b] You wear a mask and hide your real identity. Choose what label you embody while wearing your mask: [i]Freak[/i] Once per session (ish?), you can affirm either your heroic identity or your secret identity to switch your Mundane with your Mask’s label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark Potential. [b]Mild-Mannered[/b] When you use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll +Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one: You’re still under observation You leave something incriminating behind You’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head. [b]Dangerous Web[/b] When you reveal a trap you’ve left for someone using your powers, roll + your Mask’s label. On a hit, your opponent trips into it, and you get an opening or opportunity to act against them. On a 10+, take +1 forward to pursuing it. On a miss, the trap inadvertently leads to a dangerous escalation. SECRET IDENTITY Obligations: [b]Celestine Ravenelle[/b] - her little sister is still safely nestled in the Academy. For now. Étoile has to pop in from time to time to keep the brilliant but opinionated younger girl from getting into too much trouble and getting herself thrown out entirely. She knows Étoile’s identity, and is frustrated she doesn’t get to be a superhero, too [b]The Lady Tamytha[/b] - sickly, frail, sweet. Misguided. Her Lady has many needs and a gentle hand to ease her through the day and handle all the assorted tasks she’s not up for or that her household demands of her slave. Completely clueless, both with regards to her “widdle Star’s” activities and to the sheer depravity of the society she’s a part of. [b]The Resistance[/b] - Étoile’s connections to the mundane version of the fight. They’re paranoid, fidgety, and needy. They also complain a lot. Someone has to run the supply lines, someone has to be the go-between for various freedom fighters, secure safehouses, and so on and so on. They’re mundane and small scale compared to the work of the Phantom Thieves, but without them the people would suffer. And isn’t that what this is all about? When time passes, roll +Mundane to see how you’re managing your obligations. On a hit, things are going pretty well - you have an opportunity or advantage thanks to one of your obligations. On a 7-9, you’ve lapsed on one obligation, your choice. On a miss, you haven’t given your normal life anywhere near the attention it deserves; the GM chooses two obligations that are going to bite you in the butt.