beware, a bunch of these haven't been edited in like, a year, minimum. 3 max. I think I'll leave them that way, to punish myself for reusing/repurposing characters. Suffer with me, if you dare.
**Name: Avery V. Cortez
**Age: 19
**Gender: Female, masculine tendencies.
**Species: Human
**Birthday: October 19th
**Appearance: Avery stands at 6 foot 4 inches, weighing in at 190 pounds. She is lean and fit, her skin tanned by the sun and heat she's gone through to track down assigned targets. Her body is dotted in scars from previous fights- but the worst are on her left arm. The scars there range from pits and missing bits, to pieces that are raised up from the skin, to burns. She’s since covered them with blue tattoos, coating them with anything from flames, to crosses, to names, to tribal marks; anything to keep the scars from disgracing her. Her hair is blonde, and eyes amber; Her hair short on one side, and longer on the other- but never long enough to be a hindrance.
**Height/Weight: 6'4" / 190lbs
**Build: athletic
**Hair/Eye color: blonde/amber
**Extras: tattoos. So many goddamn tattoos. She also rides a motorcycle
**Usual Attire: Grey wife beater tank top, black leather jacket, black tight pants with leather patches for protection, black combat boots, tinted goggles, black leather gloves with silver embellishments on them, and a blue bandanna tied around her neck, that can be raised up like a bandit’s mask. Also, it’s common to see her toting around a shoulder bag, or utility belt.
**Personality: Cold and distant at first, Ophelia is a bitch to get to know. She has very few things that’ll destroy her, as nothing gets close enough to cause her pain. The few things that can hurt her, she protects vehemently, going to no ends to keep them safe and secure.
If you are one of the things that can hurt her, she can become surprisingly sweet. She’s thoughtful and tries her hardest to help them live the best they can.
She also hardly ever relaxes, and is usually tense.
**Weapons: Holy Whip, a bat specialized for exorcisms, and several small daggers she keeps hidden on her at all times, and the typical holy water/salt/silver bullets normal exorcists carry.
**Special Abilities: She’s been known to fight dirty- much too dirty for most organizations. She is also tenacious in her hunt for her target, and has never turned away from a case. Her brutal results often obscure who/what the target was- And that’s when she’s not taking the most identifiable part of her target back to the employer. Some say, when she's fighting, she has a special aura about her.
**Age: 19
**Gender: Female, masculine tendencies.
**Species: Human
**Birthday: October 19th
**Appearance: Avery stands at 6 foot 4 inches, weighing in at 190 pounds. She is lean and fit, her skin tanned by the sun and heat she's gone through to track down assigned targets. Her body is dotted in scars from previous fights- but the worst are on her left arm. The scars there range from pits and missing bits, to pieces that are raised up from the skin, to burns. She’s since covered them with blue tattoos, coating them with anything from flames, to crosses, to names, to tribal marks; anything to keep the scars from disgracing her. Her hair is blonde, and eyes amber; Her hair short on one side, and longer on the other- but never long enough to be a hindrance.
**Height/Weight: 6'4" / 190lbs
**Build: athletic
**Hair/Eye color: blonde/amber
**Extras: tattoos. So many goddamn tattoos. She also rides a motorcycle
**Usual Attire: Grey wife beater tank top, black leather jacket, black tight pants with leather patches for protection, black combat boots, tinted goggles, black leather gloves with silver embellishments on them, and a blue bandanna tied around her neck, that can be raised up like a bandit’s mask. Also, it’s common to see her toting around a shoulder bag, or utility belt.
**Personality: Cold and distant at first, Ophelia is a bitch to get to know. She has very few things that’ll destroy her, as nothing gets close enough to cause her pain. The few things that can hurt her, she protects vehemently, going to no ends to keep them safe and secure.
If you are one of the things that can hurt her, she can become surprisingly sweet. She’s thoughtful and tries her hardest to help them live the best they can.
She also hardly ever relaxes, and is usually tense.
**Weapons: Holy Whip, a bat specialized for exorcisms, and several small daggers she keeps hidden on her at all times, and the typical holy water/salt/silver bullets normal exorcists carry.
**Special Abilities: She’s been known to fight dirty- much too dirty for most organizations. She is also tenacious in her hunt for her target, and has never turned away from a case. Her brutal results often obscure who/what the target was- And that’s when she’s not taking the most identifiable part of her target back to the employer. Some say, when she's fighting, she has a special aura about her.
Name: Ophelia Cortez
Age: 21
Gender: Female cis
looks: Ophelia has short brown hair that is swept over to the left part of her head and face, revealing a small section that has been cut super short. Around her neck are a pair of goggles hidden by a bandanna around her neck. She stands at 6'1", a freak of nature height for her family, and has a full sleeve tattoo that continues up onto her neck and down to her waist, remaining only on the right side of her body. It's there to cover road rash that she sustained when she was 17, doing a wheelie on her bike without proper protection. Her chest is large, and her figure is toned and fit, with a "cute butt" (so her brother's friend said). her eyes are blue- just like her mom- and her tannish white skin tans a pretty golden colour. usually she wears a grey tank top with a leather coat on top, followed by leather riding pants and leather knee-high boots.
bio: Ophelia lived a normal biker-chick life, even getting into the police cadet program to appease her police parents. She loved riding the open road, she loved the smell of asphalt and gas, she loved everything about being a motorcycle rider, and hoped to be able to be a motorcycle cop when she made it through the training. All that changed when her parents started moving left and right, for a reason they couldn't say. Ophelia followed them, until she got the one answer she couldn't believe Zombies. Her parents then took off, looking for her brother- "We have to find the rest of our family!"- and she was left, with directions and a map to all the different "safe havens".Joining a group, she directed them to the closest one, only to have them decimated by one person who was infected and the fact the group wouldn't kill that person before they turned. Ophelia then ditched, riding her bike, with the bat, small pistol, and the ammo she stole from what was left from the group. Currently she's wandering about, heading to a safe spot on her map.
Age: 21
Gender: Female cis
looks: Ophelia has short brown hair that is swept over to the left part of her head and face, revealing a small section that has been cut super short. Around her neck are a pair of goggles hidden by a bandanna around her neck. She stands at 6'1", a freak of nature height for her family, and has a full sleeve tattoo that continues up onto her neck and down to her waist, remaining only on the right side of her body. It's there to cover road rash that she sustained when she was 17, doing a wheelie on her bike without proper protection. Her chest is large, and her figure is toned and fit, with a "cute butt" (so her brother's friend said). her eyes are blue- just like her mom- and her tannish white skin tans a pretty golden colour. usually she wears a grey tank top with a leather coat on top, followed by leather riding pants and leather knee-high boots.
bio: Ophelia lived a normal biker-chick life, even getting into the police cadet program to appease her police parents. She loved riding the open road, she loved the smell of asphalt and gas, she loved everything about being a motorcycle rider, and hoped to be able to be a motorcycle cop when she made it through the training. All that changed when her parents started moving left and right, for a reason they couldn't say. Ophelia followed them, until she got the one answer she couldn't believe Zombies. Her parents then took off, looking for her brother- "We have to find the rest of our family!"- and she was left, with directions and a map to all the different "safe havens".Joining a group, she directed them to the closest one, only to have them decimated by one person who was infected and the fact the group wouldn't kill that person before they turned. Ophelia then ditched, riding her bike, with the bat, small pistol, and the ammo she stole from what was left from the group. Currently she's wandering about, heading to a safe spot on her map.
Name: Clover
Age: 20
Looks: Standing five foot five, Clair is skinny and underweight. The places on her body where she can't touch bone can be counted on one hand. Her skin is pale and scarred, from the skirmishes, past encounters with cannibals, and her father's misguided frustration. The insides of her finders have flaps of skin, but are not connected, as when she was small her father clipped them to make her seem more normal. Upon her back are two large, strange, scarred and leathery appendages, resembling wings. They've hot holes and marked from stitches, and around their base on her back have swollen with scars, from attempts to remove them. Her toes are webbed, adapted for living in the rivers and other bodies of water around. Her hair is perpetually greenish, stained by plantlife and chlorine in the old pond where she hides at night from the cannibals. Her eyes are reddish brown, her radiation exposure and mutations causing them to look more red than brown, glowing when she approaches high concentrations of radiation.
Her hair is cut short, into a mezzy pixie cut to keep it from getting tangled or grabbed, and at its longest has only reached her eyes. She has large scars in the crook of her neck, on her legs, around her hands and across her face. Her attire consists of tattered shorts that used to be loose fitting pants, a ruined tank top and some hand-made sandals when she's not barefoot.
Mutations: Clover's mutations, as previously stated, consist of webbed toes (fingers were webbed when she was younger), strange wing-like appendages on her back, and an ability to hold her breath for a long time, even while sleeping.
gender: Female,cis
bio: Clover was born around LA. When she was born, her mutations caused her mother to die in childbirth, causing her father to fall into the bottle. He took to trying to un-mutate the girl, trying to cut off the strange appendages on her back and make her look normal. All that resulted from that was a young girl, scarred from her father's drunken clumsiness, hiding away with her "brother"- who was hardly even related to her- in a shed while he prepared for her passage to somewhere safer. She migrated up to the ruins of portland with a small group of other mutants, but upon arriving they were attacked. She escaped and is now hiding in the bodies of water, her favorite one being the closest to a ruined building, which she calls home.
Age: 20
Looks: Standing five foot five, Clair is skinny and underweight. The places on her body where she can't touch bone can be counted on one hand. Her skin is pale and scarred, from the skirmishes, past encounters with cannibals, and her father's misguided frustration. The insides of her finders have flaps of skin, but are not connected, as when she was small her father clipped them to make her seem more normal. Upon her back are two large, strange, scarred and leathery appendages, resembling wings. They've hot holes and marked from stitches, and around their base on her back have swollen with scars, from attempts to remove them. Her toes are webbed, adapted for living in the rivers and other bodies of water around. Her hair is perpetually greenish, stained by plantlife and chlorine in the old pond where she hides at night from the cannibals. Her eyes are reddish brown, her radiation exposure and mutations causing them to look more red than brown, glowing when she approaches high concentrations of radiation.
Her hair is cut short, into a mezzy pixie cut to keep it from getting tangled or grabbed, and at its longest has only reached her eyes. She has large scars in the crook of her neck, on her legs, around her hands and across her face. Her attire consists of tattered shorts that used to be loose fitting pants, a ruined tank top and some hand-made sandals when she's not barefoot.
Mutations: Clover's mutations, as previously stated, consist of webbed toes (fingers were webbed when she was younger), strange wing-like appendages on her back, and an ability to hold her breath for a long time, even while sleeping.
gender: Female,cis
bio: Clover was born around LA. When she was born, her mutations caused her mother to die in childbirth, causing her father to fall into the bottle. He took to trying to un-mutate the girl, trying to cut off the strange appendages on her back and make her look normal. All that resulted from that was a young girl, scarred from her father's drunken clumsiness, hiding away with her "brother"- who was hardly even related to her- in a shed while he prepared for her passage to somewhere safer. She migrated up to the ruins of portland with a small group of other mutants, but upon arriving they were attacked. She escaped and is now hiding in the bodies of water, her favorite one being the closest to a ruined building, which she calls home.
Name: Jo Gwendolyn Baxter
Age: 17
Looks: Jo stands at five foot even, with her frame being more string-bean than anything. Her limbs are long for her size, and spindly, her skin paler than the pages of the books she is often nose-deep in. Her black hair is cut short in a geometrical bob, edges straight and not a hair out of place. Her icy blue eyes are almost always aloof, large in her head and turned to the ground when she isn’t reading. Her attire is most unusual for her town- she wears old, Victorian-like clothing from her grandmother, instead of the more common jumpsuits of the jetsons-like word she lives in.
Gender: female, cis
bio: Jo lives in a 1960’s vision of the future, high above the clouds. She developed faster than other kids her age, and didn't really fit well in with them, and was bullied for it all her life. She turned to books as her escape, and has took to writing them as well. She is fascinated with dystopias, and the fantasy genre. She has some "friends", but they mostly use her as an alibi to sneak out with boys.
Extras: Plays the violin, writes books when she’s not reading them.
Age: 17
Looks: Jo stands at five foot even, with her frame being more string-bean than anything. Her limbs are long for her size, and spindly, her skin paler than the pages of the books she is often nose-deep in. Her black hair is cut short in a geometrical bob, edges straight and not a hair out of place. Her icy blue eyes are almost always aloof, large in her head and turned to the ground when she isn’t reading. Her attire is most unusual for her town- she wears old, Victorian-like clothing from her grandmother, instead of the more common jumpsuits of the jetsons-like word she lives in.
Gender: female, cis
bio: Jo lives in a 1960’s vision of the future, high above the clouds. She developed faster than other kids her age, and didn't really fit well in with them, and was bullied for it all her life. She turned to books as her escape, and has took to writing them as well. She is fascinated with dystopias, and the fantasy genre. She has some "friends", but they mostly use her as an alibi to sneak out with boys.
Extras: Plays the violin, writes books when she’s not reading them.
Name:Logan Nolan V1
Age:19
Gender:??? female ???
looks: Logan has a classical nose and large, oval eyes on her oval face. Her skin is yellow-tinted naturally, no matter how healthy she is. She has two freckles on her face- one under her eye, one parallel from it, on her jaw. Her hair is A shade of orange that is somewhere between pumpkin and red, from her father. Her eyes are dark green. she is 5 foot 3.
beanie-beanie.deviantart.com/art/Logan..
Bio: (spoilers for webcomic)
Extras: loves coffee, and anime. Works part time at a thrift shop, lives in the bad part of town. Befriended a large guy named Joel- nicknamed “cobra bubbles”. Has known Isaac since (basically) birth.
Age:19
Gender:??? female ???
looks: Logan has a classical nose and large, oval eyes on her oval face. Her skin is yellow-tinted naturally, no matter how healthy she is. She has two freckles on her face- one under her eye, one parallel from it, on her jaw. Her hair is A shade of orange that is somewhere between pumpkin and red, from her father. Her eyes are dark green. she is 5 foot 3.
beanie-beanie.deviantart.com/art/Logan..
Bio: (spoilers for webcomic)
Extras: loves coffee, and anime. Works part time at a thrift shop, lives in the bad part of town. Befriended a large guy named Joel- nicknamed “cobra bubbles”. Has known Isaac since (basically) birth.
Name: Logan Nolan
age:21 (i can change this)
appearance: Logan stands about five foot three inches, without shoes. Her frame is slim, lacking definition in muscles due to not working out, with a general shape of a very slight, bottom heavy hourglass. Her skin is white, a slight yellowishness to it when she tans, contrasting with her natural orange-red hair and the dark green of her eyes.
Her hair hangs to her shoulders, parted on the right, with long bangs swooshing just around her eyes. On her left is the longest part, often kept in place by bobby-pins, and on the right, a small lock of hair that hangs just to her jaw, matching a piece on the other side, just under the long bangs. It also consists of two longer locks of hair that sit below her collarbone, naturally curled up at the ends. This all nicely fits her oval face and larger oval eyes, though it's debatable how well it fits her classical nose, with a slightly bumped bridge.
As a ginger, freckles dot her body. They're light, but every so often, one or two darken into beauty marks. As of now, she has two on her face- one just above the left corner of her mouth, and another parallel below it, almost on her jaw. There's one on her chest, just below the meeting of her collarbones, three on her upper right arm and shoulder, and one on her left hip.
Her usual attire consists of 2-3 inch high, chunky heeled ankle-boots, skinny/stretchy jeans, and a low cut long sleeve shirt. Occasionally, she wears a yellow-tan sweater, with brown suede patches on the shoulders and elbows, a skirt, usually red, to her fingertips, brown tights, and darker brown flat shoes.
Her super, attire, however... The main body of it is white, with accents of green on the visor, helmet, hip/thigh plates, and shin guards. Her icon, on her chest, is a red broken "no" symbol, with an orange star in the middle. Her visor makes her eyes glowy when her helmet is activated/on. It is modular, leaving logan to be able to dismiss and summon pieces as she wills.
backstory:
Power(will be put in bio): Gravity manipulation, some consider her summoning her suit a power (i consider it a magical-girl skill). Technical limit is as far as she can see, functional limit is a block and a half. The closer an object is to her, the more she can control it. Typical moves are as follows: flipping their gravity, so they walk on ceilings or fall into the sky for a while, using gravity to fling debris, messing with her own gravity to "fly", be heavier, and be stronger. She cannot use her powers outside of her suit, and her suit is extremely weak to electricity, and can rust easy. It also requires extreme mental concentration to do anything but fling, and fly. Static shocks, from carpets or shopping carts, can disable a single unit of her armor, while electric fences, shock collars, and sometimes even joy-buzzers, can make her entire suit disappear. To rust her suit, it takes exposure to water and road-salt- much like alaskan cars. Due to long-term usage of her powers- including a stint of 3-4 weeks straight without having it completely off, she's grown clumsy, in a way similar to astronauts when they return from space.
(this balanced? I'm trying to getaway from mary-sue, without delving into "blessed with suck".)
Super-ego: her unofficial title, given to her by the media, is "Gravity Gal". she loathes it, but can't think of anything better.
She started her supering, hoping to make the world good, and safe- She believed in the justness of laws. Over the years, she began to realise that laws hindered justice, and could even work directly against it, and grew to despise them. By the time she was 18, she had stopped giving a "flying shit"if what she was doing was legal or not, and began serving justice on her own. She has recently completed a string of full-on "evil" activities, like robbing banks, "unjustified" murder, in attempts to draw out a criminal syndicate that she is convinced is real. Her motto is that "someone has to do bad things for the right cause".
age:21 (i can change this)
appearance: Logan stands about five foot three inches, without shoes. Her frame is slim, lacking definition in muscles due to not working out, with a general shape of a very slight, bottom heavy hourglass. Her skin is white, a slight yellowishness to it when she tans, contrasting with her natural orange-red hair and the dark green of her eyes.
Her hair hangs to her shoulders, parted on the right, with long bangs swooshing just around her eyes. On her left is the longest part, often kept in place by bobby-pins, and on the right, a small lock of hair that hangs just to her jaw, matching a piece on the other side, just under the long bangs. It also consists of two longer locks of hair that sit below her collarbone, naturally curled up at the ends. This all nicely fits her oval face and larger oval eyes, though it's debatable how well it fits her classical nose, with a slightly bumped bridge.
As a ginger, freckles dot her body. They're light, but every so often, one or two darken into beauty marks. As of now, she has two on her face- one just above the left corner of her mouth, and another parallel below it, almost on her jaw. There's one on her chest, just below the meeting of her collarbones, three on her upper right arm and shoulder, and one on her left hip.
Her usual attire consists of 2-3 inch high, chunky heeled ankle-boots, skinny/stretchy jeans, and a low cut long sleeve shirt. Occasionally, she wears a yellow-tan sweater, with brown suede patches on the shoulders and elbows, a skirt, usually red, to her fingertips, brown tights, and darker brown flat shoes.
Her super, attire, however... The main body of it is white, with accents of green on the visor, helmet, hip/thigh plates, and shin guards. Her icon, on her chest, is a red broken "no" symbol, with an orange star in the middle. Her visor makes her eyes glowy when her helmet is activated/on. It is modular, leaving logan to be able to dismiss and summon pieces as she wills.
backstory:
Power(will be put in bio): Gravity manipulation, some consider her summoning her suit a power (i consider it a magical-girl skill). Technical limit is as far as she can see, functional limit is a block and a half. The closer an object is to her, the more she can control it. Typical moves are as follows: flipping their gravity, so they walk on ceilings or fall into the sky for a while, using gravity to fling debris, messing with her own gravity to "fly", be heavier, and be stronger. She cannot use her powers outside of her suit, and her suit is extremely weak to electricity, and can rust easy. It also requires extreme mental concentration to do anything but fling, and fly. Static shocks, from carpets or shopping carts, can disable a single unit of her armor, while electric fences, shock collars, and sometimes even joy-buzzers, can make her entire suit disappear. To rust her suit, it takes exposure to water and road-salt- much like alaskan cars. Due to long-term usage of her powers- including a stint of 3-4 weeks straight without having it completely off, she's grown clumsy, in a way similar to astronauts when they return from space.
(this balanced? I'm trying to getaway from mary-sue, without delving into "blessed with suck".)
Super-ego: her unofficial title, given to her by the media, is "Gravity Gal". she loathes it, but can't think of anything better.
She started her supering, hoping to make the world good, and safe- She believed in the justness of laws. Over the years, she began to realise that laws hindered justice, and could even work directly against it, and grew to despise them. By the time she was 18, she had stopped giving a "flying shit"if what she was doing was legal or not, and began serving justice on her own. She has recently completed a string of full-on "evil" activities, like robbing banks, "unjustified" murder, in attempts to draw out a criminal syndicate that she is convinced is real. Her motto is that "someone has to do bad things for the right cause".
Name: Isaac Rivera
Age:18 (2 weeks behind Logan)
gender: fluid, usually a feminine male
looks: skin is a nice dark tan,hair black and eyes a light brown- almost gold. He has freckles all over. Eyes are round and happy all the time. He is about six foot and a half inch when straightened up. His hair is slicked back on the sides, and brushed forward on the top.
Bio: (spoilers for webcomic)
Extras: Friends with logan since basically birth. lives with parents, in an apartment over the garage. Likes anime, and dresses.
Age:18 (2 weeks behind Logan)
gender: fluid, usually a feminine male
looks: skin is a nice dark tan,hair black and eyes a light brown- almost gold. He has freckles all over. Eyes are round and happy all the time. He is about six foot and a half inch when straightened up. His hair is slicked back on the sides, and brushed forward on the top.
Bio: (spoilers for webcomic)
Extras: Friends with logan since basically birth. lives with parents, in an apartment over the garage. Likes anime, and dresses.
Name: Freya Crawford
Age: 18
Gender: cis Female
Looks: golden blonde hair that goes to her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her hair is messy, but just on the line of acceptably messy. She has a faint scar over the bridge of her nose, her right arm is obviously robotic. Her left arm is still robotic, but has a covering of skin-coloured silicone over it, with just some wires closer to the top to give away its nature. She is pale and underweight- running a highly organised rebellion under the guise of her uncle doesn’t allow for someone to get out much. She is average height, and dresses casually.
Bio: In a futuristic world where the world drifted so far away from the sun and moon, human blood is used for power, and farming. It helps the atmospheric shield that was crafted before we were too far out simulate the sky, and makes everything work. But, people are randomly taken off the streets and used for blood. They’re never seen again, and there are no leads to who or what was taking them. But Freya found out it was the largest blood power plant in the world, after her (much) older brother was taken.She now leads the rebellion under the guise of her uncle; using a voice modifier and advanced cgi graphicy stuff to keep up the ruse. Under her lead, the rebellion blazed through the concept of Kinetic energy generators, and made it extremely useful and potentially able to power the world, instead of blood.
Extras: is a shut in, actually related to the person running the thing she’s going against, is an illegitimate child, used to get in fist-fights.
Age: 18
Gender: cis Female
Looks: golden blonde hair that goes to her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her hair is messy, but just on the line of acceptably messy. She has a faint scar over the bridge of her nose, her right arm is obviously robotic. Her left arm is still robotic, but has a covering of skin-coloured silicone over it, with just some wires closer to the top to give away its nature. She is pale and underweight- running a highly organised rebellion under the guise of her uncle doesn’t allow for someone to get out much. She is average height, and dresses casually.
Bio: In a futuristic world where the world drifted so far away from the sun and moon, human blood is used for power, and farming. It helps the atmospheric shield that was crafted before we were too far out simulate the sky, and makes everything work. But, people are randomly taken off the streets and used for blood. They’re never seen again, and there are no leads to who or what was taking them. But Freya found out it was the largest blood power plant in the world, after her (much) older brother was taken.She now leads the rebellion under the guise of her uncle; using a voice modifier and advanced cgi graphicy stuff to keep up the ruse. Under her lead, the rebellion blazed through the concept of Kinetic energy generators, and made it extremely useful and potentially able to power the world, instead of blood.
Extras: is a shut in, actually related to the person running the thing she’s going against, is an illegitimate child, used to get in fist-fights.
Name: Freya Crawford
Age: 20
Gender/Sex: Female/ agender (Identifies with no gender)
HUSK
IF HUSK WITH ARTIFICIAL SOUL, LIST SOUL DEFECTS: One whole soul, prone to exaggerating emotions, especially melancholy, anxiety, and worry. It impedes on her memories like cement in an ant hive; Only the most recent, and most distant ones are accessible.
Appearance: Freya stands at five foot six, and built like an elegant tank. Under her faded dusty-green armored jumpsuit, She's got a build like an olympic runner, her suntanned skin freckled in the places the sun hit the most, with several small, deep scars over her abdomen, thighs, and chest. Her sun-bleached blonde hair is just past her shoulders, ties into to loose pigtails, fastened with red hairbands, with medium sized plastic balls on them, with bangs just starting to spill over her mirrored sunglasses, which she never parts with. The eyes behind them are cold and hazel, looking as if she were an inch from being a walking corpse. Her ears are pierced, three times on the left one, and four on the right, as a sign of the numbers of survivors she had brought in. There are several lighter scars that are visible outside of the armor she wears- One just faintly over the bridge of her nose, and a smaller, deeper one on her right temple. There are several small black tattoos on her right ankle that signify her origins, starting with a solid black wing, then a feather, a doves' silhouette, a leaf, an egg, and ending with a birds' foot print.
Bio: Freya didn't start life as a husk. She used to be a survivor, from the colder, northern deserts, known for her ability to run a message to other groups of survivors faster than anyone before. She lived a life of danger, until one day,a husk patrol learned her rout. They took her down with a strike to the head, and drug her off, in the silence of the no-mans-land between survivor camps, to an Oasis nearby. She was then stripped of her soul, and enlisted in the ranks of Husk Patrols. Within a month of her capture, she had returned to her rout, bearing a false message that sent every survivor group straight to their capture. As a reward for bringing in so many survivors, the husk patrollers of the north pierced her ears, putting dull silver studs in them to signify her higher rank.
Later on, once even she could not locate any survivors anymore, the Higher Ones deployed her to another Oasis, in a much warmer climate. She has been there since, finding less success than she once had.
Extras: Barely remembers life before becoming a husk, Abhors the heat, Loves the colour red, never goes anywhere without her mirrored aviators, usually has a backup pair with her. Wing tattoos were performed on messengers all over survivors' networks, changing with the season to phase out any runners that may have been captured. Runners who survived past a season would get the next tattoo above the first, eventually leading a trail up their leg. Those tattoos were made with ink from pens that are scavenged,a stick, and needles that are older than anyone that's alive. They're performed by the oldest member of the group, and are rumored to be extremely painful, with a good chance of infection.
Age: 20
Gender/Sex: Female/ agender (Identifies with no gender)
HUSK
IF HUSK WITH ARTIFICIAL SOUL, LIST SOUL DEFECTS: One whole soul, prone to exaggerating emotions, especially melancholy, anxiety, and worry. It impedes on her memories like cement in an ant hive; Only the most recent, and most distant ones are accessible.
Appearance: Freya stands at five foot six, and built like an elegant tank. Under her faded dusty-green armored jumpsuit, She's got a build like an olympic runner, her suntanned skin freckled in the places the sun hit the most, with several small, deep scars over her abdomen, thighs, and chest. Her sun-bleached blonde hair is just past her shoulders, ties into to loose pigtails, fastened with red hairbands, with medium sized plastic balls on them, with bangs just starting to spill over her mirrored sunglasses, which she never parts with. The eyes behind them are cold and hazel, looking as if she were an inch from being a walking corpse. Her ears are pierced, three times on the left one, and four on the right, as a sign of the numbers of survivors she had brought in. There are several lighter scars that are visible outside of the armor she wears- One just faintly over the bridge of her nose, and a smaller, deeper one on her right temple. There are several small black tattoos on her right ankle that signify her origins, starting with a solid black wing, then a feather, a doves' silhouette, a leaf, an egg, and ending with a birds' foot print.
Bio: Freya didn't start life as a husk. She used to be a survivor, from the colder, northern deserts, known for her ability to run a message to other groups of survivors faster than anyone before. She lived a life of danger, until one day,a husk patrol learned her rout. They took her down with a strike to the head, and drug her off, in the silence of the no-mans-land between survivor camps, to an Oasis nearby. She was then stripped of her soul, and enlisted in the ranks of Husk Patrols. Within a month of her capture, she had returned to her rout, bearing a false message that sent every survivor group straight to their capture. As a reward for bringing in so many survivors, the husk patrollers of the north pierced her ears, putting dull silver studs in them to signify her higher rank.
Later on, once even she could not locate any survivors anymore, the Higher Ones deployed her to another Oasis, in a much warmer climate. She has been there since, finding less success than she once had.
Extras: Barely remembers life before becoming a husk, Abhors the heat, Loves the colour red, never goes anywhere without her mirrored aviators, usually has a backup pair with her. Wing tattoos were performed on messengers all over survivors' networks, changing with the season to phase out any runners that may have been captured. Runners who survived past a season would get the next tattoo above the first, eventually leading a trail up their leg. Those tattoos were made with ink from pens that are scavenged,a stick, and needles that are older than anyone that's alive. They're performed by the oldest member of the group, and are rumored to be extremely painful, with a good chance of infection.
Name: Joel Nelson
Age: 23
Gender: male, cis
Species:(Newly turned) vampire
Looks: Joel stands about six foot on a good day, when he’s not hunched over over his laptop, guitar, or food. He’s of average frame, though his legs are pretty strong and nice to look at. As such, he tends to wear tight clothing, usually in the punk style. His hair is shaved on the sides and back, leaving only the top of his head covered in long, dyed hair. He usually shapes the red and black locks up, in curly waves, or slicked back in a pompadour, though he sometimes ties it back in a top-not when he’s working or trying to think. His natural colour is dark brown, though.
His skin is a light brown, though recently it’s taken on a deathly pallor. His eyes are hazel, sometimes changing colour when he wears a different colour (he thinks it’s something to do with reflections).
Bio: Joel lived a relatively normal life, until his normal tendencies to run late were avoided by running early. He was fresh out of college, in a band called Galactic Consumption with a long-time internet friend, playing gigs over the internet every now and then. He had always, always run late due to what he called “Nelson-time”, and he absolutely did not want to be late to his first gig. So, he arrived early- and to his dismay, as he was unloading his gear from his van, he got jumped by some “Kinky Bastard”. When he came to, he completely missed the show, and felt extremely sick. He hasn’t been able to eat food since then without chucking it up.
Abilities: Can play guitar and sing(if you call punk singing singing), likes to schmooze with the ladies, can cook pretty decently, and as of lately, can run faster than he’s ever ran before.
Family/bandmates: Karen, his mother, Josie, his sister, and Paul Sharma, his bandmate.
Pets: Roy, his pet rock he keeps in his van
Age: 23
Gender: male, cis
Species:(Newly turned) vampire
Looks: Joel stands about six foot on a good day, when he’s not hunched over over his laptop, guitar, or food. He’s of average frame, though his legs are pretty strong and nice to look at. As such, he tends to wear tight clothing, usually in the punk style. His hair is shaved on the sides and back, leaving only the top of his head covered in long, dyed hair. He usually shapes the red and black locks up, in curly waves, or slicked back in a pompadour, though he sometimes ties it back in a top-not when he’s working or trying to think. His natural colour is dark brown, though.
His skin is a light brown, though recently it’s taken on a deathly pallor. His eyes are hazel, sometimes changing colour when he wears a different colour (he thinks it’s something to do with reflections).
Bio: Joel lived a relatively normal life, until his normal tendencies to run late were avoided by running early. He was fresh out of college, in a band called Galactic Consumption with a long-time internet friend, playing gigs over the internet every now and then. He had always, always run late due to what he called “Nelson-time”, and he absolutely did not want to be late to his first gig. So, he arrived early- and to his dismay, as he was unloading his gear from his van, he got jumped by some “Kinky Bastard”. When he came to, he completely missed the show, and felt extremely sick. He hasn’t been able to eat food since then without chucking it up.
Abilities: Can play guitar and sing(if you call punk singing singing), likes to schmooze with the ladies, can cook pretty decently, and as of lately, can run faster than he’s ever ran before.
Family/bandmates: Karen, his mother, Josie, his sister, and Paul Sharma, his bandmate.
Pets: Roy, his pet rock he keeps in his van
Name: Valoury Baxter
Age: 21
Looks: Valoury stands a slightly taller than average- an even 172 cm or 5 foot 6 and a half inch in imperial measurements. Her frame is slightly athletic, as she has had to rely on only what she was able to do rather than magic for her entire life, with strong arms and legs covered in smooth, tan skin. Her jaw is also strong, the angles defined almost without contouring makeup, accentuating her heart shaped face. Her average sized, round eyes are particular shade of taupe that she classifies as "technically hazel", which she's often pushing her near too grown out bangs out of. Her hair, coming down to just past her average chest, but not quite to her elbows, is naturally ashy brown. She dyed the tips, up to her just below the collarbone a deep emerald green, and, if it was't for the fact she needed a job, she'd not stopped there. It lays wavy, and despite the fact it tangled often and easily, she enjoys her "mermaid hair". Her nose is straight and, like most of her other features, had strength to it- the bridge had been slightly raised due to a broken nose she'd received when she was smaller, and the tip neither distinctly up or down. She was comfortable with her looks, occasionally taking pride in them when she actually attempted to look nice.
When it comes to her attire, Valoury tends to not "give a shit", as she eloquently phrases it, about what others think. As such, it ranges between short shorts and a crop top in the summer, a long, oversized sweater with leggings and boots in the winter, to dresses that range between "cute" and "why did anyone think this would be a good idea". Typically, though, when it comes to skirts and dresses, or even sometimes loose sorts, she wears tighter, stretchy shorts underneath so she doesn't have to worry about nasty people peeking up her skirt. She also, typically, wears heels; she stubbornly resolved to wear them as often as she could back in high school, when some kids started to pick on her about her height,of all things, and claimed that guys "didn't like tall girls".
Bio: From birth, Valoury had no ability to use magic. Not even the simplest of charms or incantations- and, though her mother worried, her dad was absolutely ok with it, as he, too, couldn't do magic. It had been the curse that passed through their family line; In exchange for not being able to use magic, anything they wanted, within reason, would be theirs- only in excess. And, if it wasn't within reason, they'd be showered with money- specifically, cans of pennies. As this curse was extremely literal- even the slightest sign of want could trigger it- her parents guided her away from most forms of media, until they could find ways to block ads. The girl, though, would still trigger her curse from time to time- narrowly avoiding a flood of fruits, toys, or cans of pennies due to quick thinking, either on her pert, or her parent's.
In her childhood, and for most of her life, her inability to do magic isolated her despite being decent at most everything else. Children, when she was smaller, labeled her and mocked her, growing worse when she was moved from remedial magic classes to a special education class, where they gave up on teaching her magic, and instead gave her an hour helping the janitors with other special-needs kids. This soon evolved into bullying, and, with guidance from her mother and fighting lessons from her father, she learned to crush those who tried to crush her. It got her suspended multiple times, but despite that, she was happy; She was able to be alone from others- having grown more introverted through her experiences with how awful kids can be- without being made fun of, or otherwise bullied. She had a small circle of friends from her special classes, and often socialized with them instead of with others, as they tended to be more accepting of her complete and total magical retardation.
When it came to family, she was really close with her mother and father. Her mom would use her magic to do Valoury's hair, and other sweet things, wile her dad would support her and occasionally lift her up to grab things from tall shelves, or hide in a cabinet to scare her mom. This, in part, changed when her mother mysteriously vanished one night, when Valoury had just been introduced to the special class. Her father, despite working in the police force, couldn't figure out what happened, or where she went, and it left Valoury devastated for a long while. The only clues were strange, black fluids trailed from Valory's room to the bathroom, ranging between large spatter- as if someone had poured the thick fluid from a bucket- to light drip spatter. Though she wouldn't like to admit it, she finds fluids like that to be extremely unnerving to this day. Other than that, she mostly has gotten over her mother's disappearance; occasionally melancholic over it, she found herself, after over a decade since seeing her mother last, numb for the most part.
After her school life, she found herself mostly isolated; She'd lost contact with her friends, and her attempts to pick up new ones in new hobbies failed. Only videogaming ended up gaining her a friend or two who rarely spoke to her; and even then, it mostly consisted of them telling each other to "piss off or heal me," and sending each other poorly thought out, vaguely "shitpost" feeling memes.
That is, until a letter decided to appear in her bathroom. It had nearly fallen into her toilet; teleporting to her bathroom ceiling light and fluttering down as she prepared for her shower. She, being irritated at the letter for sounding very pretentious and rude, and for interrupting her shower preparations with a feeling of being watched, decided to go to her dad and ask one of his friends to send the letter, plus another and several cans of pennies, back. The contents of which were, about ten bucks' worth of pennies, one email address written on a 1 inch by 1 inch clipping of an index card, and this letter:
"Dear Johann,
Holy shit.
You're absolutely pretentious. Also, if you saw me shower, you're a creep and should feel bad.
I hope these fall on your toilet. Preferably, when you're relaxing in a bath, or something.
If you wish to reply to me ad/or try again, please, for the love of god, use email or something, and also, please, for the love of god, try to sound less high and mighty. Included in one of the cans of pennies is my email address. If they're not spilled over your floor, have fun searching through them. If another letter rudely enters my bathroom again, I will send you other irritating things.
Signed, and not stuffed in another can of pennies (you should be grateful),
Valoury Baxter."
Since then, she googled his address and anonymously shipped him large quantities of pennies, glitter, "as-seen-on-tv" products that don't work, and other things she'd gotten due to her curse through snail-mail. Though he annoys her, she finds it amusing to annoy him back- he, at least, kept in touch more often than her other friends.
Extra:
- Her friends generally contact her (memes not counting) about once or twice a month. She, in all honestly, is OK with it, as their interactions make her laugh.
- She swims, and is trying to learn how to parkour when she isn't playing video games or trying to figure out other annoying things to sendto Johann, and how to send them the cheapest way possible
* Val is absolutely terrible at parkour
- Being around people she doesn't know well exhausts her. Nothing significant changes about her behavior when she's around others, but if around someone for too long she becomes blunt and slightly rude, despite her medium-chill nature.
* Medium-chill lasts until she is aggravated past "annoyed". Not much achieves this, through.
- She can't sleep unless she has her mother's blanket with her; Her father has addressed this to receive numerous excuses like "it's warm" and "it's useful; if I need to, it can be a pillow".
- Though she gives people flack all the time (usually, sarcastically), She'd not let anyone who accepted her "amputation of her magic conductor" get flack from anyone else.
* Regardless of their relationship, Val even gives her own father Flack from time to time. Most of the time, when giving shit to those that are close to her, she means it to be joking.
~She is very bad at joking
Age: 21
Looks: Valoury stands a slightly taller than average- an even 172 cm or 5 foot 6 and a half inch in imperial measurements. Her frame is slightly athletic, as she has had to rely on only what she was able to do rather than magic for her entire life, with strong arms and legs covered in smooth, tan skin. Her jaw is also strong, the angles defined almost without contouring makeup, accentuating her heart shaped face. Her average sized, round eyes are particular shade of taupe that she classifies as "technically hazel", which she's often pushing her near too grown out bangs out of. Her hair, coming down to just past her average chest, but not quite to her elbows, is naturally ashy brown. She dyed the tips, up to her just below the collarbone a deep emerald green, and, if it was't for the fact she needed a job, she'd not stopped there. It lays wavy, and despite the fact it tangled often and easily, she enjoys her "mermaid hair". Her nose is straight and, like most of her other features, had strength to it- the bridge had been slightly raised due to a broken nose she'd received when she was smaller, and the tip neither distinctly up or down. She was comfortable with her looks, occasionally taking pride in them when she actually attempted to look nice.
When it comes to her attire, Valoury tends to not "give a shit", as she eloquently phrases it, about what others think. As such, it ranges between short shorts and a crop top in the summer, a long, oversized sweater with leggings and boots in the winter, to dresses that range between "cute" and "why did anyone think this would be a good idea". Typically, though, when it comes to skirts and dresses, or even sometimes loose sorts, she wears tighter, stretchy shorts underneath so she doesn't have to worry about nasty people peeking up her skirt. She also, typically, wears heels; she stubbornly resolved to wear them as often as she could back in high school, when some kids started to pick on her about her height,of all things, and claimed that guys "didn't like tall girls".
Bio: From birth, Valoury had no ability to use magic. Not even the simplest of charms or incantations- and, though her mother worried, her dad was absolutely ok with it, as he, too, couldn't do magic. It had been the curse that passed through their family line; In exchange for not being able to use magic, anything they wanted, within reason, would be theirs- only in excess. And, if it wasn't within reason, they'd be showered with money- specifically, cans of pennies. As this curse was extremely literal- even the slightest sign of want could trigger it- her parents guided her away from most forms of media, until they could find ways to block ads. The girl, though, would still trigger her curse from time to time- narrowly avoiding a flood of fruits, toys, or cans of pennies due to quick thinking, either on her pert, or her parent's.
In her childhood, and for most of her life, her inability to do magic isolated her despite being decent at most everything else. Children, when she was smaller, labeled her and mocked her, growing worse when she was moved from remedial magic classes to a special education class, where they gave up on teaching her magic, and instead gave her an hour helping the janitors with other special-needs kids. This soon evolved into bullying, and, with guidance from her mother and fighting lessons from her father, she learned to crush those who tried to crush her. It got her suspended multiple times, but despite that, she was happy; She was able to be alone from others- having grown more introverted through her experiences with how awful kids can be- without being made fun of, or otherwise bullied. She had a small circle of friends from her special classes, and often socialized with them instead of with others, as they tended to be more accepting of her complete and total magical retardation.
When it came to family, she was really close with her mother and father. Her mom would use her magic to do Valoury's hair, and other sweet things, wile her dad would support her and occasionally lift her up to grab things from tall shelves, or hide in a cabinet to scare her mom. This, in part, changed when her mother mysteriously vanished one night, when Valoury had just been introduced to the special class. Her father, despite working in the police force, couldn't figure out what happened, or where she went, and it left Valoury devastated for a long while. The only clues were strange, black fluids trailed from Valory's room to the bathroom, ranging between large spatter- as if someone had poured the thick fluid from a bucket- to light drip spatter. Though she wouldn't like to admit it, she finds fluids like that to be extremely unnerving to this day. Other than that, she mostly has gotten over her mother's disappearance; occasionally melancholic over it, she found herself, after over a decade since seeing her mother last, numb for the most part.
After her school life, she found herself mostly isolated; She'd lost contact with her friends, and her attempts to pick up new ones in new hobbies failed. Only videogaming ended up gaining her a friend or two who rarely spoke to her; and even then, it mostly consisted of them telling each other to "piss off or heal me," and sending each other poorly thought out, vaguely "shitpost" feeling memes.
That is, until a letter decided to appear in her bathroom. It had nearly fallen into her toilet; teleporting to her bathroom ceiling light and fluttering down as she prepared for her shower. She, being irritated at the letter for sounding very pretentious and rude, and for interrupting her shower preparations with a feeling of being watched, decided to go to her dad and ask one of his friends to send the letter, plus another and several cans of pennies, back. The contents of which were, about ten bucks' worth of pennies, one email address written on a 1 inch by 1 inch clipping of an index card, and this letter:
"Dear Johann,
Holy shit.
You're absolutely pretentious. Also, if you saw me shower, you're a creep and should feel bad.
I hope these fall on your toilet. Preferably, when you're relaxing in a bath, or something.
If you wish to reply to me ad/or try again, please, for the love of god, use email or something, and also, please, for the love of god, try to sound less high and mighty. Included in one of the cans of pennies is my email address. If they're not spilled over your floor, have fun searching through them. If another letter rudely enters my bathroom again, I will send you other irritating things.
Signed, and not stuffed in another can of pennies (you should be grateful),
Valoury Baxter."
Since then, she googled his address and anonymously shipped him large quantities of pennies, glitter, "as-seen-on-tv" products that don't work, and other things she'd gotten due to her curse through snail-mail. Though he annoys her, she finds it amusing to annoy him back- he, at least, kept in touch more often than her other friends.
Extra:
- Her friends generally contact her (memes not counting) about once or twice a month. She, in all honestly, is OK with it, as their interactions make her laugh.
- She swims, and is trying to learn how to parkour when she isn't playing video games or trying to figure out other annoying things to sendto Johann, and how to send them the cheapest way possible
* Val is absolutely terrible at parkour
- Being around people she doesn't know well exhausts her. Nothing significant changes about her behavior when she's around others, but if around someone for too long she becomes blunt and slightly rude, despite her medium-chill nature.
* Medium-chill lasts until she is aggravated past "annoyed". Not much achieves this, through.
- She can't sleep unless she has her mother's blanket with her; Her father has addressed this to receive numerous excuses like "it's warm" and "it's useful; if I need to, it can be a pillow".
- Though she gives people flack all the time (usually, sarcastically), She'd not let anyone who accepted her "amputation of her magic conductor" get flack from anyone else.
* Regardless of their relationship, Val even gives her own father Flack from time to time. Most of the time, when giving shit to those that are close to her, she means it to be joking.
~She is very bad at joking
Name: Kurt Baxter
Age: 21
Gender: male
Looks: Kurt stands at five foot eleven,his skin paler than the pages of the books he is often nose-deep in. His limbs are long for his size, and he is extremely wispy and bony. His black hair is cut short, edges straight and not a hair out of place. His icy blue eyes are almost always aloof, large in his head and turned to the ground when he isn't reading. Normally, he wears a blue jumpsuit, closed up to his waist and the long sleeves tied around his hips, a white tank top and dark blue boots. His teeth are straight and white, his cuspids scraggly and sharp, his jaw sharp. A little bit of stubble plays at his jaw and cheeks at times, but usually he is clean shaven.
Bio: Kurt lives high above the clouds, one one of the largest and more well-off platform cities. Growing up, he learned faster than most of the kids in his school, and was teased for it. He turned to books as his escape, and not only reads them but writes them as well. He is fascinated with dystopias- something he can attribute to the rare times he's watched the news, and fantasy. Mostly, Kurt is extremely antisocial, but he has some "friends".They mostly use him as an alibi to sneak out with girls, or just use him in general.
Currently, Kurt is almost done with highschool, and is working as a clerk in a local Grocery store to gather the money to go to college. He is a quiet soul, and keeps to himself.
Once a week he goes to the last actual book store on the platform and browses, boying at least one book each time he goes there. His latest find was easily the strangest find; The cover was the oddest plastic, and the pages inside were uneven and rough and some were floppy. And the oddest thing of all; It was blank. Of course he bought it, though, and has kept it in his bookshelf for a while. He's only now decided to bring it out and begin to write a story in it.
His father is the police chief for the local station, so he leads an otherwise nice life. He has a room to himself, and when his grandmother goes to an old folks' home, he will get to go live in her old apartment, right below his father.
Extras: plays the violin, writes books when he’s not reading them or working. He is an only child, and lives in the apartment below his dad, which his grandma used to live in.
Age: 21
Gender: male
Looks: Kurt stands at five foot eleven,his skin paler than the pages of the books he is often nose-deep in. His limbs are long for his size, and he is extremely wispy and bony. His black hair is cut short, edges straight and not a hair out of place. His icy blue eyes are almost always aloof, large in his head and turned to the ground when he isn't reading. Normally, he wears a blue jumpsuit, closed up to his waist and the long sleeves tied around his hips, a white tank top and dark blue boots. His teeth are straight and white, his cuspids scraggly and sharp, his jaw sharp. A little bit of stubble plays at his jaw and cheeks at times, but usually he is clean shaven.
Bio: Kurt lives high above the clouds, one one of the largest and more well-off platform cities. Growing up, he learned faster than most of the kids in his school, and was teased for it. He turned to books as his escape, and not only reads them but writes them as well. He is fascinated with dystopias- something he can attribute to the rare times he's watched the news, and fantasy. Mostly, Kurt is extremely antisocial, but he has some "friends".They mostly use him as an alibi to sneak out with girls, or just use him in general.
Currently, Kurt is almost done with highschool, and is working as a clerk in a local Grocery store to gather the money to go to college. He is a quiet soul, and keeps to himself.
Once a week he goes to the last actual book store on the platform and browses, boying at least one book each time he goes there. His latest find was easily the strangest find; The cover was the oddest plastic, and the pages inside were uneven and rough and some were floppy. And the oddest thing of all; It was blank. Of course he bought it, though, and has kept it in his bookshelf for a while. He's only now decided to bring it out and begin to write a story in it.
His father is the police chief for the local station, so he leads an otherwise nice life. He has a room to himself, and when his grandmother goes to an old folks' home, he will get to go live in her old apartment, right below his father.
Extras: plays the violin, writes books when he’s not reading them or working. He is an only child, and lives in the apartment below his dad, which his grandma used to live in.
name: Claire Baxter
age: 25
gender: female
looks: (picture to be added whenever I get around to drawing it)
"Small" is often the first non-insulting word used to describe Claire. Undernourished due to her forgetting to eat for most of her life, her growth was stunted at just under 5 feet tall. Her build is mostly skin and bones- about several pounds from being emaciated, as a result. With gentle greenish hazel eyes and a soft nose contrasting with the rest of the sharp bonyness of her cheeks and jaw brings a pixie-like aesthetic to her face. light freckles freckle her shoulders and face, ready to darken at even the hint of sunlight.
She keeps her pale hair short- Blunt bangs hang to just below her thick brows, and often lay disheveled and pushed to the left, with the sides and back nearly shaved. Occasionally, she pushes them back with her glasses.
Her life of science has not always been as stable as it is now, nor were her past experiments as "tame" as they are now. As such, she has a rather nice scar on her left lower leg, a burn scar on her right collarbone, and a slight green discolouration over her right eye and part of her face, with a bit of scarring around. The green discolouration affects her vision in that eye, giving everything a green tint. To correct that, her glasses are tinted green, slightly, on one side.
Typically, Claire wears high-necked shirts, body-hugging denim pants, and boots of varying colours, complimented with a white lab coat. She is almost never seen without eye-wear that corrects her discoloured, and slightly distorted, vision.
bio: Science, to Claire, is and has always been everything. Her father was a scientist, Her mother was a scientist- every member of her family she's ever met or heard of has been a scientist- leaving her a legacy to follow, and many sources of inspiration. All their past experiments residing in the basement for her to see, the "wonders" and experiments piqued her curiosity, and cemented her desires of following the legacy.
As soon as she could stand and understand, she began her journey down the path she was given- bringing her father tools and mother papers as they worked on their experiments, learning as they worked. Things, however, did not go as well as could be hoped. A few years after Claire had begun to help her mother, she went missing without a trace. Her father drove himself to the edge looking for her- so much so that, after years of not filing the appropriate paperwork and a large incident that involved multiple towns and major reconstruction, the S.M.B.P. took him away, leaving her in the care of her "uncle"- a disembodied head of a long passed relative, brought back to life by her great grandfather and kept in a jar. Despite being a head in a jar, he did his best to guide Claire away from the mistakes he had done and seen in his lengthened life, and tried to teach her what he knew.
Eventually, after years of being fed up with having to carry the heavy jar all around the house and being alone for most of the time, Claire started to build. She built a mouth controlled roller for her Uncle, with claw hands to grab things, and many, many robots with different programing to keep her company and assist her with dangerous experiments. Occasionally, the programing is faulty, or the hardwiring of the robot itself is wrong, and they go haywire and destroy bits of the town, but Claire has grown wise to the mishaps, and kept all experiments on a plug-in basis.
Her most recent failure came from the first robot she built. It was designed to reach things from high up, but due to some chemicals spilling on its' hard drive, it went on a rampage, pulling things(and people) from high up places down to the ground with unregulated force. Since the mishap, she's put the robot out of commission, and been doing her best to repair the damage to both items, property, and people- even though quite a lot of them would rather she just leave.
extra: Her strongest science is robotics, having learned from her father. She, when going outside, keeps a small rolling robot with her for support. Well aware of how much the people around her dislike her, she tries to gain their approval when she fixes things. Usually has her groceries and other items delivered to her house, and buys online. She has sentry-bots, armed with non-lethal defences, on patrol around her home, to prevent kids from going up to her home and vandalising it. They're mostly there to look scary.
Having watched her mother bring a small experiment to life before she disappeared, she aspires to learn to engineer a living, breathing creature. Unfortunately, she is abysmally bad at it.
age: 25
gender: female
looks: (picture to be added whenever I get around to drawing it)
"Small" is often the first non-insulting word used to describe Claire. Undernourished due to her forgetting to eat for most of her life, her growth was stunted at just under 5 feet tall. Her build is mostly skin and bones- about several pounds from being emaciated, as a result. With gentle greenish hazel eyes and a soft nose contrasting with the rest of the sharp bonyness of her cheeks and jaw brings a pixie-like aesthetic to her face. light freckles freckle her shoulders and face, ready to darken at even the hint of sunlight.
She keeps her pale hair short- Blunt bangs hang to just below her thick brows, and often lay disheveled and pushed to the left, with the sides and back nearly shaved. Occasionally, she pushes them back with her glasses.
Her life of science has not always been as stable as it is now, nor were her past experiments as "tame" as they are now. As such, she has a rather nice scar on her left lower leg, a burn scar on her right collarbone, and a slight green discolouration over her right eye and part of her face, with a bit of scarring around. The green discolouration affects her vision in that eye, giving everything a green tint. To correct that, her glasses are tinted green, slightly, on one side.
Typically, Claire wears high-necked shirts, body-hugging denim pants, and boots of varying colours, complimented with a white lab coat. She is almost never seen without eye-wear that corrects her discoloured, and slightly distorted, vision.
bio: Science, to Claire, is and has always been everything. Her father was a scientist, Her mother was a scientist- every member of her family she's ever met or heard of has been a scientist- leaving her a legacy to follow, and many sources of inspiration. All their past experiments residing in the basement for her to see, the "wonders" and experiments piqued her curiosity, and cemented her desires of following the legacy.
As soon as she could stand and understand, she began her journey down the path she was given- bringing her father tools and mother papers as they worked on their experiments, learning as they worked. Things, however, did not go as well as could be hoped. A few years after Claire had begun to help her mother, she went missing without a trace. Her father drove himself to the edge looking for her- so much so that, after years of not filing the appropriate paperwork and a large incident that involved multiple towns and major reconstruction, the S.M.B.P. took him away, leaving her in the care of her "uncle"- a disembodied head of a long passed relative, brought back to life by her great grandfather and kept in a jar. Despite being a head in a jar, he did his best to guide Claire away from the mistakes he had done and seen in his lengthened life, and tried to teach her what he knew.
Eventually, after years of being fed up with having to carry the heavy jar all around the house and being alone for most of the time, Claire started to build. She built a mouth controlled roller for her Uncle, with claw hands to grab things, and many, many robots with different programing to keep her company and assist her with dangerous experiments. Occasionally, the programing is faulty, or the hardwiring of the robot itself is wrong, and they go haywire and destroy bits of the town, but Claire has grown wise to the mishaps, and kept all experiments on a plug-in basis.
Her most recent failure came from the first robot she built. It was designed to reach things from high up, but due to some chemicals spilling on its' hard drive, it went on a rampage, pulling things(and people) from high up places down to the ground with unregulated force. Since the mishap, she's put the robot out of commission, and been doing her best to repair the damage to both items, property, and people- even though quite a lot of them would rather she just leave.
extra: Her strongest science is robotics, having learned from her father. She, when going outside, keeps a small rolling robot with her for support. Well aware of how much the people around her dislike her, she tries to gain their approval when she fixes things. Usually has her groceries and other items delivered to her house, and buys online. She has sentry-bots, armed with non-lethal defences, on patrol around her home, to prevent kids from going up to her home and vandalising it. They're mostly there to look scary.
Having watched her mother bring a small experiment to life before she disappeared, she aspires to learn to engineer a living, breathing creature. Unfortunately, she is abysmally bad at it.
IM SO MAD
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