โ P e r s o n a l i t y
Laid-back โ Contrarian โ Jaded โ Affable โ Soulful
Melle doesn't go out of her way to talk to people but, if you come to her, you bet she'll have something to say on just about anything. She's friendly, approachable, and generous, but not to a fault. Naivete is not the order of the day here. She's lived among the cliquey sorts and knows well the words and feelings that grow thick among their carefully manicured friend groups. She's old enough to recognize the adult version of those too. By and large, though, she's left that world behind, her contrarian stubbornness and flashes of a know-it-all tendency being the sole vestiges of a former self the twenty-two-year-old claims she's well rid of.
Instead, she's a half-shelf above an easygoing slacker. When it comes to the things that she cares about, Melle will still summon the spirit to go above and beyond. What she won't do, however, is help those unwilling or unable to help themselves. She figures that she's doing them a favour anyhow. If you can't swim on your own, you've no business being in the water. On a more selfish level, she's wary of ever spreading herself too thin again. She saves her energy for the big tests, the parties, and the adventures. As a seventh-year, she knows just about everything there is to know about campus and enjoys sharing its little secrets among her many stories. It kills her not to be able to tell people about the grotto, but it is what it is. She's not about to be the one to spoil a storied tradition.
โ H i s t o r y
If Emmelynne Starbuck is what a fall from grace looks like, then maybe it isn't so bad after all. A former high-achiever who made a pointed decision to take a step back, she's more or less a kinda happy person, and that means something in a world teeming with brooding teens and emotional desperation, doesn't it?
Storytelling is a fun pursuit and, truth be told, well... she doesn't always tell it, to be honest. There's still some spark in the organic pursuit of embellishment. The yarns aren't intentional things and she's forthright when it matters. Thing is... her past isn't really all that special. She grew up, older of two girls, in the large fishing town of Selemayne, on a low-lying island. She would watch the seagulls, bleating and circling as they hung there in the wind and the salt and the sun. Her parents ran a small chandlery and she and her sister Nelle were often to be found hanging around and helping out. She was almost invariably the more involved of the two, and top of the board in her primary school examinations.
Three days after her eleventh birthday, Melle - as she was known to her family - was chosen to read her town's address when the Royal Family came to pay a visit. When an inopportune gust of wind blew it straight into the ocean, in front of the entire crowd, she delivered a largely-impromptu speech instead that was notably well-received. She'd stolen most of it from a book obscure enough that nobody figured it out until years later. That was the beginning. Soon, she was running the shop when her parents were busy, earning a wage. She was chosen to represent Selemayne in a regional student Olympics. If a few people griped that she was a show-off, her parents walked a little taller and Pennelopy spoke more glowingly about her. Emmelynne was addicted to success. He unique and impactful gift only deepened the dependency.
She entered Harold's Academy and... she sparkled. Maybe not with quite the same ease that she had back home, but she knew what to say, how to say it, and who to smile for. Her gift was fun, whimsical, and strong! It was hardly a surprise that everyone wanted free stuff. She was good academically, as well: always seated at the front of the class, notebook in hand though rarely all that full, and some meaningful question or cogent observation ever at her lips. She didn't just want illuminaire, she required it. She lived and breathed it: social engagement after ball after speaking engagement after recital. She had ten fingers and every one was in a different pie. She began picking herself up with caffeine. She was close. She could sense it! Then, in her third year, two things happened. First, her sister followed her into the school. Second, and more importantly, Melle Starbuck was selected. She accepted with poise and grace and, after four months, was so burnt out by the extra responsibility that she began smoking secretly, ashamedly, to quiet her careening mind and still her trembling fingers. She would scream at herself in the mirror some mornings or fall asleep some nights by crawling into her own hammerspace.
Melle is an open book about most things. That's just the way she is and, even when some incident causes her mood to go sour and she tries on the hat of 'brooding' or 'wounded', she doesn't last long. There is one thing that she won't discuss, however, and that's what happened with Pennelopy. It's a recent malady that's no longer so recent and risks becoming a permanent one. It's also a tragedy. The sisters were once close.
โ R e p u t a t i o n
Once upon a time, to use a terribly trite turn of phrase, Melle was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed freshman (freshwoman?) She tried in school. Gods, how she tried! Was there any particular reason or profound motivation? She certainly didn't grow up wealthy, but she was never destitute. She possessed a strong gift, if a touch idiosyncratic and difficult to use to its full potential. She wasn't some generational talent, though. Maybe she just did it because she was taught to work hard and because there's something addictive about being looked up to by others. She's still quite academically capable and, even when powered almost wholly by nicotine, caffeine, and desperation, is a slightly above average student. In truth, seven years is a long time and she made the decision, after a hellish third year as illuminaire, that there were more important things in life than impressing people. Some teachers are frustrated with her 'lack of drive' and failure to 'live up to her potential'. Some fellow students are, too. She's changed friend groups twice now. Most like her, though. She's harmless, accessible, and kind of fun.
โ G o a l s
Melle's looking to take over the family shop, find a decent guy, make some friends, and settle down as someone of minor note in her town. She'd like to find a way to employ her gift and thinks that generating items for the store might be a goldmine if she can add some predictability to the process.
โ R e l a t i o n s
Dyric Brancaster: Ex-boyfriend. High achiever. They had an on-again, off-again thing for a few years. He's graduated, though. He was kind of a jerk, but he was hot. What's a girl gonna do?
Pennelopy Starbuck: Ex-sister. Yup, the 'ex' isn't a typo. Nelle's been disowned due to... reasons. Status subject to review at some point when she can be assed to scoop together the requisite emotional bandwidth.
Rorric Spoleto: Ex... nah. They only see each other occasionally between classes (he's in Harold), but Rorric's her cousin of about the same age. They spent a lot of time together growing up. He's precious to her, genuinely.
Generic Parents: One day a mommy and a daddy really loved each other and... well, we don't need the birds and the bees talk, now. Do we? They raised a little girl and she's evolved into a grown-ass woman. Good job, generic parental figures!
โ "Everyone lives in their own little world sometimes. Mine's just - hah, sorry. It's just too cheesy. I can't." โ
โ M y s t i c C l a s s i f i c a t i o n
Astra
โ G i f t
Hammerspace
โ M y s t i c C o d e
Melle has access to a pocket dimension and pulls articles from it based on her emotional state and situational need. While many of these appear to be generated on the spot by means unknown, she can place things from the 'real world' into it as well - including herself - and retrieve them as needed... in theory. The normal laws of materials science and thermodynamics don't quite seem to apply in her 'hammerspace' - so named because the first thing that she pulled out of it was a comically large mallet manifested from her need to kill a spider that had taken up residence above her bed. Most simply elucidated, it functions on a variety of toon physics.
โ L i m i t a t i o n s a n d W e a k n e s s e s
At the end of the day, Melle's gift remains a tenebrous and idiosyncratic thing, nigh-impossible to draw consistent and predictable results from (OOC, it will be represented by somewhat whimsical dice rolls). Things shoved in there can't always be taken out when most needed. She also struggles to generate living things and, even when they're introduced from the real world, she needs to personally enter and exit while in physical contact with them.