Member
Khyron Shadowfang
Festive
Damycles
Izurich
PrinceAlexus
Aces Away
Crimson Flame
Red Helix
mattmanganon
Kaithe Dame
Regan Rigby
Gender
Female
Age
26
Appearance
Rigby is of a normal height just under 5'7" with a build that could best be described as lithe. She has a rather petite frame but a history of athletic activity has been nice to her even if her lifestyle hasn't been quite so active as it was. Her hair, once always kept long, is now often tucked under a baseball cap or a beanie but is still as dark as ever. She tried highlighting it once or twice, but it never quiet looked right. It's more medium length these days. She has three tattoos, one on her left arm, another on her right leg, and the last a little symbol on her collarbone. When it comes to style, she keeps it realtively low key and goes for function over fashion moreso out of necessity. At times her focus on jeans and band shirts or graphic tees makes her come off a bit more immature than others but she's in her twenties, what else is she supposed to dress like.
She does love hats, though. Caps, beanies, hats are cool and underrated as an accessory.
She does love hats, though. Caps, beanies, hats are cool and underrated as an accessory.
Personality
While Rigby isn't the same person she was in high school - which is a very good thing - she still has a bit of a strong sarcastic streak and a tendency to use humor and wit to her benefit. She's not above saying something to get a rise out of a person, but depending on who it is it is done out of love or out of a desire to needle and bother. Perhaps because of her high school years and the hole it left in her on the friendship side of things, Rigby has a tendency to latch onto people who show her kindness and don't scrape her off like cleaning a barnacle. There was a time where she craved being the center of attention and part of her still does, which is why she often exagerates and embellishes when teling anecdotes or the like. Combined with her humor bleeding the line, Rigby can often come off as someone who is, well, prickly at best and a liar at worst.
She doesn't believe herself to be a liar, just someone who was once a social butterfly but never quite learned how to adapt to a different type of socialization. Quick with profanity and quicker with the wit, it's undeniable that she has a certain charisma when speaking. But she's aware enough to know that when it comes to matters like performing in a group that she's not the main attraction. Her skill in gabbing is more suited to backstage and at the bar, using her silver tongue to smooth things through. Very much a people person, Rigby believes that the more people she makes like her by whatever means necessary maybe the easier it will be to finally like herself. The problem there is her not knowing if anyone really does like her.
She doesn't believe herself to be a liar, just someone who was once a social butterfly but never quite learned how to adapt to a different type of socialization. Quick with profanity and quicker with the wit, it's undeniable that she has a certain charisma when speaking. But she's aware enough to know that when it comes to matters like performing in a group that she's not the main attraction. Her skill in gabbing is more suited to backstage and at the bar, using her silver tongue to smooth things through. Very much a people person, Rigby believes that the more people she makes like her by whatever means necessary maybe the easier it will be to finally like herself. The problem there is her not knowing if anyone really does like her.
Instrument(s)
Bass Guitar/Guitar
Favorite Music Genres
Prog, Post-hardcore, Funk, Indie Rock and Post-Rock, one summer was really into Weezer but only up to the Green Album, secretly fucks with mall pop.
Background
Regan, though she goes by Rigby now, came from a rather conservative household as the second child born to a city councilman and a mother who was a little too well known at PTA meetings and especially at church functions. It wasn't as if Regan grew up in the shadow of her older sibling, but often it felt like she had to compete for affection or, worse, strive for a very specific type of perfection. In public outings, they had to be the perfect family which, for Regan, meant smiling and dressing like she was going to a debutante ball and going to Sunday School and minding her p's and q's and everything inbetween. To say it was stifling would be an understatement.
In high school, most who knew Regan knew her as a cheerleader and one of the more popular students that, naturally, did everything she could to make people feel unwelcome. It wasn't just that she was a mean girl, she was downright cruel with her words at times, but only when she knew there weren't any teachers or, worse, parents listening. It didn't really earn her any real friends, not like her older sibling who was genuinely liked. If it weren't for Regan's position on the cheerleading team and her family having a second house that was easily used for after-event hangouts or parties, Regan probably would've been a lot lonelier in high school. It's easy to say that she was just doing what was expected, popular, cheerleader, that sort of thing, but getting away from the suffocating influence of her family was the best thing that happened to her.
Because it allowed her to reflect.
It happened her senior year, first semester. Regan, having done poorly on the SATs the year before, was facing an uncertain future and parents who were still pushing her to be the idealized version of a person she wasn't. Midway through the first semester of what was their final year, Regan just one day stopped showing up. She didn't tell any teachers or any students. They assumed she was sick. But one missed day turned into a missed week. Then a missed month. Regan didn't graduate with the class. She didn't even show up at graduation. The police were involved only up until her father told them they weren't filing a missing person's report and that she wasn't dead.
Regan didn't go to college. She lied on an application and worked a dingy dive bar cleaning tables and helping set up amps for the booked groups that played. She got a lot of tips from people who thought she was a single mother or slaving her way through college - stories she didn't exactly dissuade them from believing. It was at this job that Regan bonded with a member of a regular performing band. She taught Regan proper fingering technique. Regan appreciated it. When the band broke up, so too did she break up with Regan, leaving only a worn out bass as a memento. Regan quit the job, well she got fired for stealing from the register for personal reasons, and at age twenty-two had no real career prospects or anything other than memories, good and bad, and a guitar. It only made sense that she put what she had into the only thing she could.
She never joined a band, but did fill in for bar crawling bands and busked when that wasn't an option. It was playing on the street where Regan got recognized by a former classmate. She denied it, saying her name was Rigby, but there was no hiding it even with ink and a piercing. It was through this classmate that she heard about the reunion - something she wasn't even sure she was allowed to go to. But what else was she going to do? If nothing else she could maybe apologize and try to close that chapter of her life before finding what the next one held for her. Because being one rung away from living on the street wasn't exactly the idyllic perfect life she envisioned. But...it was her life all the same, and that had to count for something.
In high school, most who knew Regan knew her as a cheerleader and one of the more popular students that, naturally, did everything she could to make people feel unwelcome. It wasn't just that she was a mean girl, she was downright cruel with her words at times, but only when she knew there weren't any teachers or, worse, parents listening. It didn't really earn her any real friends, not like her older sibling who was genuinely liked. If it weren't for Regan's position on the cheerleading team and her family having a second house that was easily used for after-event hangouts or parties, Regan probably would've been a lot lonelier in high school. It's easy to say that she was just doing what was expected, popular, cheerleader, that sort of thing, but getting away from the suffocating influence of her family was the best thing that happened to her.
Because it allowed her to reflect.
It happened her senior year, first semester. Regan, having done poorly on the SATs the year before, was facing an uncertain future and parents who were still pushing her to be the idealized version of a person she wasn't. Midway through the first semester of what was their final year, Regan just one day stopped showing up. She didn't tell any teachers or any students. They assumed she was sick. But one missed day turned into a missed week. Then a missed month. Regan didn't graduate with the class. She didn't even show up at graduation. The police were involved only up until her father told them they weren't filing a missing person's report and that she wasn't dead.
Regan didn't go to college. She lied on an application and worked a dingy dive bar cleaning tables and helping set up amps for the booked groups that played. She got a lot of tips from people who thought she was a single mother or slaving her way through college - stories she didn't exactly dissuade them from believing. It was at this job that Regan bonded with a member of a regular performing band. She taught Regan proper fingering technique. Regan appreciated it. When the band broke up, so too did she break up with Regan, leaving only a worn out bass as a memento. Regan quit the job, well she got fired for stealing from the register for personal reasons, and at age twenty-two had no real career prospects or anything other than memories, good and bad, and a guitar. It only made sense that she put what she had into the only thing she could.
She never joined a band, but did fill in for bar crawling bands and busked when that wasn't an option. It was playing on the street where Regan got recognized by a former classmate. She denied it, saying her name was Rigby, but there was no hiding it even with ink and a piercing. It was through this classmate that she heard about the reunion - something she wasn't even sure she was allowed to go to. But what else was she going to do? If nothing else she could maybe apologize and try to close that chapter of her life before finding what the next one held for her. Because being one rung away from living on the street wasn't exactly the idyllic perfect life she envisioned. But...it was her life all the same, and that had to count for something.