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twenty-four [&] femaleappearance - Before the world went to shit, Baby Jinx was a pretty little thing that looked no older than an eighteen year old High School graduate steeped into a lacy, Gothic fashion. Being of petite stature leaves no room for embellishments, waif and thin, maybe a little bony at the shoulders; Baby Jinx is -in simple description- tiny. Now with torn, lace pattened tights, and combat boots with a hastily thrown on tee-shirt that hits mid-thigh; she resembles a vagabond child rather than a woman [
a voice of candied bubblegum doesn't help either] with bottle-bleach hair [
dirty like dreads] that hangs down past shoulders with her chrome scalp revealed on one side. Baby Jinx considers herself lucky to have stolen the woolen, faux fur coat off of a dead woman's body, even if it's covered in the old hag's blood.
weapons - An aluminum baseball bat: dented and scratched, just as she found it in the backyard of a suburban household.
Scissors: and not your typical stationary either, but not everyone can reach a sharpened knife in time, not when the kitchens were raided first for their cutlery.
gear - Stale cigarettes with no lighter, as she
lost it, a worn and tattered bag that bangs constantly at her hip, contents of hairspray, coils of miscellaneous rope and links of chain. What edible items she has are half-eaten breakfast bars, [stale] and the little to no medical supplies that she possess are cartoon printed band-aids that she uses to ease the blisters and callouses on her little fingers.
Will be updated or potentially changed, once I get home where I'll add my [possibly] second character.