Glitter Guppy

X-Men: The New Era

She felt ridiculous.

Lorelai had been hovering like some kind of reedy wallflower outside the conference room for the past five minutes, hand frozen on the handle, watching the other students through the thin window in the door, and she felt absolutely ridiculous.

It wasn't nerves. She'd worked all of those out of her system during orientation, and while a few of the mutants were a bit 'boisterous', most had been amicable enough. This school was a new experience for all of them, whether you were thrilled about it or not, and that simple element of the Ashford Institute undeniably bonded them, student and teacher alike.

It wasn't that she didn't want to be here, either. She did. More than anything, Lorelai wanted to be right here, right now, close to the answers she needed, safe from the outside world and the outside world safe from her. This place had been a beacon in the storm for her, her only chance to try and control what she was so something like Nigeria would never ever happen again.

And perhaps that was it. That's why she was hesitating opening that door and stepping into that conference room. It would mark the end of an era for her, the beginning of more uncertainty, another massive change to her already upside-down life. There'd been moments during the past few weeks where she'd grappled with herself over the feeling that she might not be ready for this, although she'd have some degree of control over her situation this time. But the fact remained that beyond these doors… anything was possible.

And she had two choices.

Open the door and trust in the mysterious but messy ways life guided all.

Or turn around and leave for good, right now.

As it had irritatingly often in the last few weeks, a verse from Proverbs rose from the smoldering ashes of her Christian faith and swam through her mind. "When you go, your way shall be opened up before you, step by step." Her father's homily about taking a leap of faith in life followed, echoing against her numb soul. Perhaps it was God's intervention, reminding her, coaxing her gently, reassuring her. Or maybe it was just the traumatized mind of a survivor scraping for some kind of hope.

Whatever it was, Lorelai was turning the handle and stepping through the double doors before she'd made a conscious decision. Because a leap of faith was all she really had now.

She tried not to make an entrance, closing the doors carefully while the other students did…whatever they were doing. Showing off? She'd just made it for the tail end of Temperance's speech, her heart going out to the girl as she loitered awkwardly in the entrance, blocking the doors for anyone else coming in or going out. The blonde folded her arms across her chest, a defensive posture, hoping no one asked her to 'show and tell'. Hopefully the staff would be by soon to tell them why they were here, because Lorelai had her doubts that it was for any X-Men purposes. They were so young and untrained, everyone here was, and they had years to go before they could be anything close to what the X-Men were.

They were bound to find out soon, either way.

X-Men: The New Era

Me on my post right now:



Halfway done and still trying, I promise I'll get it up there as soon as I can!

Edit: DONE! Posted. Unhappy with it, but it was time to just get SOMETHING up there.

X-Men: The New Era

Catching up on posts! Been ill the past few days. <3 Looks like we've got some good stories building!

Life in the verse. A Firefly/Serenity RP

I'm sure we have lost one or two since initial interest...

@Dark Light

...and I hate that I have to be one of them, but looking at my offline schedule over the next few weeks and tallying the number of other commitments I'm already juggling, I'm going to have to pump the brakes here and bow out for the time being. =/ Was looking forward to this, apologies, I probably should have thought before offering, but it just looked SO DAMN FUN.

I WILL, however, keep working on my character sheet in the hopes I can jump in at a later date. Perhaps a passenger role? Or something less crucial to the day-to-day? I'll think on it. :)

In the meantime, I'll be watching and reading and fangirling from afar! <3

Mass Effect RP

Very interested, but I already have my hands in too many pots. Will lurk and read for now! <3

Seas of Blood

This is exciting. <3 All you people and your creative minds, you're exciting.

After some examination (and bouncing ideas with my good ol' friend, @JDolan) of my current offline schedule and the engagements I made prior to pouncing all over @TheIratePirate's pirate-y ideas, I've realized I can't contribute here on the scale I wanted to right now without losing my marbles trying to keep up with everything. So! Perhaps down the road I can play a bigger role.

In the meantime, I've come up with a small one I think I can manage that won't derail the whole thing with my spotty posting times. That's IF you'll have me. :P

A land-based role, sort of come-and-go, not crucial to the big picture but still sort of useful, perhaps something like a tavern wench or brothel gal somewhere they frequent who collects and passes information to the crew an' captain. Maybe she WAS a part of the crew at some point. Or maybe she's being forced to do this? Blackmail?? I don't know. My knowledge of pirates ranges between Pirates of the Caribbean and Black Sails. :P But something tells me no matter her disposition, she wouldn't pass things along out of the goodness of her heart.

X-Men: The New Era

~Playlist~

Lorelai Devereux


Lor, Mlinzi (Swahili for 'protector'), Lailai, Pop Tart (long story)


Deflector, or Guardian.


Female


19

At almost six feet, Lorelai is no stranger to 'tall girl' jokes. Her long, lean legs and short upper body meant finding clothes for her in rural Africa was always a challenge, especially pants. The ones that were long enough were forever falling down, bagging out with material around her midriff. Her torso is mostly hip, not soft and curving but widely set and prominently boney, and what waist she has is small, nipping sharply inwards right below her ribs. Long, slightly gangly arms were often crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. She has a square face and a strong jaw that does not match the elegance of her other facial features, a dainty nose nestled between two vivid cerulean eyes, often glassy with heavy memories, and her mouth is rarely seen smiling. The honey-colored roots of her long, tousled tresses were always a bit darker than the rest of her hair, fine and golden as cornsilk and as blindingly bright as the sun in the daylight.

On the humid, sticky shores of a poor fishing village, no one cared about your appearance and things like makeup and perfume were luxury items no one could afford, and so Lorelai's exposure to fashion basics has been minimal. Not that there were many fashionable options for her strange body-type anyway. Most (if not all) her clothes are hand-me-downs or second-hand, heavily worn but clean and airy. A master at wrapping and wearing a sarong, she's usually barefoot, hair neatly parted down the middle, fresh-faced and makeup free.

She has a soft, buttery voice, gentle in word and musical in tone. But growing up in Nigeria, her accent grew into a strange mixture of American Southern drawl and Nigerian rhythm, with pronunciations falling on either side of the scale.

Some subscribe to the belief that a person's mutation is often a reflection of the individual, a sort of ironically-twisted version of their most prominent personality traits. Others say the opposite, that it's simply all cold, hard science, and that the manifestations of whatever power the individual develops is just a random sequence of genes evolving, the personality having no effect on it at all. Which do you believe?

Shielding: This manifests in two separate ways. Lorelai has the ability to create, manipulate and position or 'project' a seemingly impenetrable physical energy shield. It appears solid but clear and flexible, slightly yielding to pressure, a diluted blue-green color that shifts hues in a kind of wave effect across the shield, and she can 'bend' it with hand gestures to various shapes and sizes, covering or fully enclosing an area of up to seven square feet tall and wide. It does not absorb attacks, instead deflecting or 'bouncing' them back at random, and only seems to stop the physical. Her shields have no effect on psychic and mental powers. Once shaped and 'thrown' into place, they stand on their own until she takes them down. It seems her limits show during creation and are based on the size, not the strength of the shield since she does not need to support them for them to stay put, and making anything larger than her current record drains her of energy quickly. The only thing that can pass through these is air, filtered by the shield itself. Water and other substances do not penetrate. But the shield only deflects on one side. Things can pass through the other side.

Lorelai also has a permanent 'personal' shield she cannot control. It wraps like a second skin around every inch of her body, constantly active, invisible, and the only difference from her standing shields is the fact that most elements like water can pass through. In fact, anything but blunt force trauma can affect her. She could drown or die of poisoning or electrocution easily, but she cannot be cut or stabbed or shot or harmed in that way. She suspects this manifestation was trigger at her Awakening, and that with practice she should be able to lower it.

Invisibility: Only recently has Lorelai begun experimenting with this new element of her mutation. If she focuses, she has been able to 'bend' the light around her shields, achieving a sort of invisibility effect, but has been unable to maintain it for very long.


| Withdrawn | Perceptive | Reliable | Pragmatic | Peacemaker | Competent | Broken |

Born in the 'bible belt' of the Americas to Gina and Jeremiah Devereux, two young, devout Christian missionaries from South Carolina, Lorelai never knew her home town. Just ten months after her birth, the Devereux family packed their essentials and moved to Africa with a handful of others from their church on a large-scale mission to bring the word of God to those in need of hope and salvation. They settled on the shores of a small, isolated, impoverished fishing town just outside of Lagos, Nigeria, where they set up shop with their bibles and their sunny, Southern disposition. Gina's medical background and Jeremiah's carpenter skills were offered freely, and they worked hard to make a home for themselves and win the village over, but despite their willingness to help, it took the small community years to trust them enough for any kind of relationships to be formed.

For this was not the first time outsiders had come to them, offered them help, and then betrayed them.

Five years past. It became apparent that the foreigners were not going anywhere, and so one by one, the locals began to open their hearts and their homes. Jeremiah was the first to be trusted, kind and genuine and cheerful in his evangelizing. Gina was last, rather aloof and clinical in her approach. They watched the little golden-haired baby grow into a child, quickly bonding with villagers young and old. The ever-present dangers in Nigera had left many, many children without parents or families, and even young as she was, whether from natural desire or biblical duty, Lorelai would look out for them, bringing them food and clothes, protecting the youngest from the older kids. She helped her father build a large community home for them and was often found there even after the orphans had gone to bed, fixing mosquito nets and swatting away yam beetles or making sure the youngest didn't wander into the ocean at night. The children came to depend on her and the adults came to love her for her caring of their community. At the birth of her little sister, Claire, everyone gathered on the beach for a celebration, singing praises as the sun set, roasting fish over the bonfire. They'd truly become part of the locals.

Fourteen years passed. The sisters grew up alongside the others, mud between their toes, saltwater in their hair, hearts beating in unison with the strong, wild, powerful rhythm of the African people. Where Lorelai evolved into a smart, capable, no-nonsense mother hen, Claire was carefree and untamed, known for her spontaneous, fun-loving nature. Where Lorelai studied and respected (sometimes even feared) the world around her, Claire played obliviously in it. Where Lorelai began to question the words in the revered book her family clung so tightly to, where she started to understand the darker aspects of the way her adopted country worked and lose the faith she'd trusted in since childhood, Claire never wavered, never asked questions or missed church or doubted her mission. Yet the two were inseparable, as different as the sun and the moon, but the center of each other's universes. Lorelai kept Claire safe, and Claire kept Lorelai laughing. Life on the Nigerian coast was hard, but it was home.

Lor was nineteen when it happened. Claire was only fourteen.

(see Mutation Awakening)

After the events of her Awakening left her entire village dead, including her father and her sister, a grieving Gina and Lorelai moved back to the States in their old apartment in South Carolina, hoping to escape the horrors they'd witnessed. Lor hid her powers from her mother, knowing the God-fearing woman would not accept her for what she was. But with her emotions out of control and her world burning around her, Lor knew she couldn't stay hidden for long.

It took some sleuthing on her part, but the young mutant found information on a safe haven for people like her. The Ashford Manor. A new school, of sorts, run by beings with abilities just like hers, and they were looking for new students.

Lorelai packed up the few things she had, and under the guise of attending a normal 'sleep-away' school under scholarship, she left her mother with her extended family and made her way to Ashford Manor, desperate and in pain.

What she'd find there, WHO she'd find there…would change her life forever.

They came at twilight, forced onto the beaches by the storms. Thirteen of them, faces obscured by scarves, guns in hand, eyes cold. Pirates were not a rare thing on the coast of Nigeria, but their quest for oil cargo usually never led them to the shores of poor fishing communities. It's why the village was completely unprepared for their assault. Many were dead before people understood what was happening. Men, women, children, all were cut down as they tore through the houses, looking for anything of value, having been robbed of their chance to secure the cargo they truly wanted.

Lorelai took Claire and as many children as she could gather and barricaded the door to the community house. Gunfire shattered the air over and over as rain beat relentlessly on the roof above them, screams ripped through the wind, rising in duet with the wailing gales as the storm whipped through open doors, thunder shook the wood planks under their feet as the pirates pounded the front door until it broke from its hinges. They dragged the terrified children outside, separated the Devereux sisters from the others (fair-haired white females fetched decent prices), tossed the village kids in the wet sand and raised their guns.
Perhaps they didn't expect the spindly blonde white girl to fight back. But Lorelai had twisted her way out of her captor's grip and grabbed a handgun from his hip holster before they could stop her.
She took aim at the nearest murderer. And she pulled the trigger without a second thought, the cries of her petrified sister and the children who counted on Lorelai sharp in her ears. He fell to the sand, dead.

Lightning illuminated with crisp, unforgiving clarity the grizzly scene around them, and in the few shocked moments before the captain leveled his pistol at Lorelai, she felt something shift in her core, a cool sensation rushing over her body. Dropping her pistol, she spun, preparing for death even as she clawed relentlessly at the man holding Claire. The shot rang out. She winced, moving to shield her sister out of habit. There was a strange sound as the bullet meant for Lorelai ricocheted off her body…
…and tore through Claire.

The next few minutes saw Lorelai's spirit shatter.

They tried again, even as she knelt on the bloody sand cradling her sister's body, but the bullets bounced from her skin in every direction, spraying both friend and foe like shrapnel. She threw an arm out at some point, screaming for them to stop, and her first standing shield appeared. But all it did was add to the chaos, as she was in shock and couldn't figure out how to control it. When the pirates had lost all but four, they turned tail in fear, grabbing a few of the older boys and girls and disappearing into the storm, leaving Lorelai in the center of a circle of dead bodies, pirate and villager.

It was a full twelve hours before her mother left the safety of the jungle and found her, exactly where she'd fallen, clutching Claire like her life depended on it. Jeremiah lay face down in the sand near the community house, dead.

Lorelai never told anyone what had truly happened.

*~ Lady of the Lore's Character Vault ~*

~Playlist~

Lorelai Devereux


Lor, Mlinzi (Swahili for 'protector'), Lailai, Pop Tart (long story)


Deflector, or Guardian.


Female


19

At almost six feet, Lorelai is no stranger to 'tall girl' jokes. Her long, lean legs and short upper body meant finding clothes for her in rural Africa was always a challenge, especially pants. The ones that were long enough were forever falling down, bagging out with material around her midriff. Her torso is mostly hip, not soft and curving but widely set and prominently boney, and what waist she has is small, nipping sharply inwards right below her ribs. Long, slightly gangly arms were often crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. She has a square face and a strong jaw that does not match the elegance of her other facial features, a dainty nose nestled between two vivid cerulean eyes, often glassy with heavy memories, and her lips, full and blush with her youth, are rarely seen smiling. The honey-colored roots of her long, tousled tresses were always a bit darker than the rest of her hair, fine and golden as cornsilk and as blindingly bright as the sun in the daylight.

On the humid, sticky shores of a poor fishing village, no one cared about your appearance and things like makeup and perfume were luxury items no one could afford, and so Lorelai's exposure to fashion basics has been minimal. Not that there were many fashionable options for her strange body-type anyway. Most (if not all) her clothes are hand-me-downs or second-hand, heavily worn but clean and airy. A master at wrapping and wearing a sarong, she's usually barefoot, hair neatly parted down the middle, fresh-faced and makeup free.

She has a soft, buttery voice, gentle in word and musical in tone. But growing up in Nigeria, her accent grew into a strange mixture of American Southern drawl and Nigerian rhythm, with pronunciations falling on either side of the scale.

Some subscribe to the belief that a person's mutation is often a reflection of the individual, a sort of ironically-twisted version of their most prominent personality traits. Others say the opposite, that it's simply all cold, hard science, and that the manifestations of whatever power the individual develops is just a random sequence of genes evolving, the personality having no effect on it at all. Which do you believe?

Shielding: This manifests in two separate ways. Lorelai has the ability to create, manipulate and position or 'project' a seemingly impenetrable physical energy shield. It appears solid but clear and flexible, slightly yielding to pressure, a diluted blue-green color that shifts hues in a kind of wave effect across the shield, and she can 'bend' it with hand gestures to various shapes and sizes, covering or fully enclosing an area of up to seven square feet tall and wide. It does not absorb attacks, instead deflecting or 'bouncing' them back at random, and only seems to stop the physical. Her shields have no effect on psychic and mental powers. Once shaped and 'thrown' into place, they stand on their own until she takes them down. It seems her limits show during creation and are based on the size, not the strength of the shield since she does not need to support them for them to stay put, and making anything larger than her current record drains her of energy quickly. The only thing that can pass through these is air, filtered by the shield itself. Water and other substances do not penetrate. But the shield only deflects on one side. Things can pass through the other side.

Lorelai also has a permanent 'personal' shield she cannot control. It wraps like a second skin around every inch of her body, constantly active, invisible, and the only difference from her standing shields is the fact that most elements like water can pass through. In fact, anything but blunt force trauma can affect her. She could drown or die of poisoning or electrocution easily, but she cannot be cut or stabbed or shot or harmed in that way. She suspects this manifestation was trigger at her Awakening, and that with practice she should be able to lower it.

Invisibility: Only recently has Lorelai begun experimenting with this new element of her mutation. If she focuses, she has been able to 'bend' the light around her shields, achieving a sort of invisibility effect, but has been unable to maintain it for very long.


| Withdrawn | Perceptive | Reliable | Pragmatic | Peacemaker | Competent | Broken |

Born in the 'bible belt' of the Americas to Gina and Jeremiah Devereux, two young, devout Christian missionaries from South Carolina, Lorelai never knew her home town. Just ten months after her birth, the Devereux family packed their essentials and moved to Africa with a handful of others from their church on a large-scale mission to bring the word of God to those in need of hope and salvation. They settled on the shores of a small, isolated, impoverished fishing town just outside of Lagos, Nigeria, where they set up shop with their bibles and their sunny, Southern disposition. Gina's medical background and Jeremiah's carpenter skills were offered freely, and they worked hard to make a home for themselves and win the village over, but despite their willingness to help, it took the small community years to trust them enough for any kind of relationships to be formed.

For this was not the first time outsiders had come to them, offered them help, and then betrayed them.

Five years past. It became apparent that the foreigners were not going anywhere, and so one by one, the locals began to open their hearts and their homes. Jeremiah was the first to be trusted, kind and genuine and cheerful in his evangelizing. Gina was last, rather aloof and clinical in her approach. They watched the little golden-haired baby grow into a child, quickly bonding with villagers young and old. The ever-present dangers in Nigera had left many, many children without parents or families, and even young as she was, whether from natural desire or biblical duty, Lorelai would look out for them, bringing them food and clothes, protecting the youngest from the older kids. She helped her father build a large community home for them and was often found there even after the orphans had gone to bed, fixing mosquito nets and swatting away yam beetles or making sure the youngest didn't wander into the ocean at night. The children came to depend on her and the adults came to love her for her caring of their community. At the birth of her little sister, Claire, everyone gathered on the beach for a celebration, singing praises as the sun set, roasting fish over the bonfire. They'd truly become part of the locals.

Fourteen years passed. The sisters grew up alongside the others, mud between their toes, saltwater in their hair, hearts beating in unison with the strong, wild, powerful rhythm of the African people. Where Lorelai evolved into a smart, capable, no-nonsense mother hen, Claire was carefree and untamed, known for her spontaneous, fun-loving nature. Where Lorelai studied and respected (sometimes even feared) the world around her, Claire played obliviously in it. Where Lorelai began to question the words in the revered book her family clung so tightly to, where she started to understand the darker aspects of the way her adopted country worked and lose the faith she'd trusted in since childhood, Claire never wavered, never asked questions or missed church or doubted her mission. Yet the two were inseparable, as different as the sun and the moon, but the center of each other's universes. Lorelai kept Claire safe, and Claire kept Lorelai laughing. Life on the Nigerian coast was hard, but it was home.

Lor was nineteen when it happened. Claire was only fourteen.

(see Mutation Awakening)

After the events of her Awakening left her entire village dead, including her father and her sister, a grieving Gina and Lorelai moved back to the States in their old apartment in South Carolina, hoping to escape the horrors they'd witnessed. Lor hid her powers from her mother, knowing the God-fearing woman would not accept her for what she was. But with her emotions out of control and her world burning around her, Lor knew she couldn't stay hidden for long.

It took some sleuthing on her part, but the young mutant found information on a safe haven for people like her. The Ashford Manor. A new school, of sorts, run by beings with abilities just like hers, and they were looking for new students.

Lorelai packed up the few things she had, and under the guise of attending a normal 'sleep-away' school under scholarship, she left her mother with her extended family and made her way to Ashford Manor, desperate and in pain.

What she'd find there, WHO she'd find there…would change her life forever.

They came at twilight, forced onto the beaches by the storms. Thirteen of them, faces obscured by scarves, guns in hand, eyes cold. Pirates were not a rare thing on the coast of Nigeria, but their quest for oil cargo usually never led them to the shores of poor fishing communities. It's why the village was completely unprepared for their assault. Many were dead before people understood what was happening. Men, women, children, all were cut down as they tore through the houses, looking for anything of value, having been robbed of their chance to secure the cargo they truly wanted.

Lorelai took Claire and as many children as she could gather and barricaded the door to the community house. Gunfire shattered the air over and over as rain beat relentlessly on the roof above them, screams ripped through the wind, rising in duet with the wailing gales as the storm whipped through open doors, thunder shook the wood planks under their feet as the pirates pounded the front door until it broke from its hinges. They dragged the terrified children outside, separated the Devereux sisters from the others (fair-haired white females fetched decent prices), tossed the village kids in the wet sand and raised their guns.
Perhaps they didn't expect the spindly blonde white girl to fight back. But Lorelai had twisted her way out of her captor's grip and grabbed a handgun from his hip holster before they could stop her.
She took aim at the nearest murderer. And she pulled the trigger without a second thought, the cries of her petrified sister and the children who counted on Lorelai sharp in her ears. He fell to the sand, dead.

Lightning illuminated with crisp, unforgiving clarity the grizzly scene around them, and in the few shocked moments before the captain leveled his pistol at Lorelai, she felt something shift in her core, a cool sensation rushing over her body. Dropping her pistol, she spun, preparing for death even as she clawed relentlessly at the man holding Claire. The shot rang out. She winced, moving to shield her sister out of habit. There was a strange sound as the bullet meant for Lorelai ricocheted off her body…
…and tore through Claire.

The next few minutes saw Lorelai's spirit shatter.

They tried again, even as she knelt on the bloody sand cradling her sister's body, but the bullets bounced from her skin in every direction, spraying both friend and foe like shrapnel. She threw an arm out at some point, screaming for them to stop, and her first standing shield appeared. But all it did was add to the chaos, as she was in shock and couldn't figure out how to control it. When the pirates had lost all but four, they turned tail in fear, grabbing a few of the older boys and girls and disappearing into the storm, leaving Lorelai in the center of a circle of dead bodies, pirate and villager.

It was a full twelve hours before her mother left the safety of the jungle and found her, exactly where she'd fallen, clutching Claire like her life depended on it. Jeremiah lay face down in the sand near the community house, dead.

Lorelai never told anyone what had truly happened.

X-Men: The New Era

I am SO sorry this is so long, I did not anticipate... I haven't written in a while. Kind of just started writing and couldn't stop. I promise I'll edit it later!

Lorelai Devereux - Shielder

~Playlist~

Lorelai Devereux


Lor, Mlinzi (Swahili for 'protector'), Lailai, Pop Tart (long story)


Deflector, or Guardian.


Female


19

At almost six feet, Lorelai is no stranger to 'tall girl' jokes. Her long, lean legs and short upper body meant finding clothes for her in rural Africa was always a challenge, especially pants. The ones that were long enough were forever falling down, bagging out with material around her midriff. Her torso is mostly hip, not soft and curving but widely set and prominently boney, and what waist she has is small, nipping sharply inwards right below her ribs. Long, slightly gangly arms were often crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. She has a square face and a strong jaw that does not match the elegance of her other facial features, a dainty nose nestled between two vivid cerulean eyes, often glassy with heavy memories, and her lips, full and blush with her youth, are rarely seen smiling. The honey-colored roots of her long, tousled tresses were always a bit darker than the rest of her hair, fine and golden as cornsilk and as blindingly bright as the sun in the daylight.

On the humid, sticky shores of a poor fishing village, no one cared about your appearance and things like makeup and perfume were luxury items no one could afford, and so Lorelai's exposure to fashion basics has been minimal. Not that there were many fashionable options for her strange body-type anyway. Most (if not all) her clothes are hand-me-downs or second-hand, heavily worn but clean and airy. A master at wrapping and wearing a sarong, she's usually barefoot, hair neatly parted down the middle, fresh-faced and makeup free.

She has a soft, buttery voice, gentle in word and musical in tone. But growing up in Nigeria, her accent grew into a strange mixture of American Southern drawl and Nigerian rhythm, with pronunciations falling on either side of the scale.

Some subscribe to the belief that a person's mutation is often a reflection of the individual, a sort of ironically-twisted version of their most prominent personality traits. Others say the opposite, that it's simply all cold, hard science, and that the manifestations of whatever power the individual develops is just a random sequence of genes evolving, the personality having no effect on it at all. Which do you believe?

Shielding: This manifests in two separate ways. Lorelai has the ability to create, manipulate and position or 'project' a seemingly impenetrable physical energy shield. It appears solid but clear and flexible, slightly yielding to pressure, a diluted blue-green color that shifts hues in a kind of wave effect across the shield, and she can 'bend' it with hand gestures to various shapes and sizes, covering or fully enclosing an area of up to seven square feet tall and wide. It does not absorb attacks, instead deflecting or 'bouncing' them back at random, and only seems to stop the physical. Her shields have no effect on psychic and mental powers. Once shaped and 'thrown' into place, they stand on their own until she takes them down. It seems her limits show during creation and are based on the size, not the strength of the shield since she does not need to support them for them to stay put, and making anything larger than her current record drains her of energy quickly. The only thing that can pass through these is air, filtered by the shield itself. Water and other substances do not penetrate. But the shield only deflects on one side. Things can pass through the other side.

Lorelai also has a permanent 'personal' shield she cannot control. It wraps like a second skin around every inch of her body, constantly active, invisible, and the only difference from her standing shields is the fact that most elements like water can pass through. In fact, anything but blunt force trauma can affect her. She could drown or die of poisoning or electrocution easily, but she cannot be cut or stabbed or shot or harmed in that way. She suspects this manifestation was trigger at her Awakening, and that with practice she should be able to lower it.

Invisibility: Only recently has Lorelai begun experimenting with this new element of her mutation. If she focuses, she has been able to 'bend' the light around her shields, achieving a sort of invisibility effect, but has been unable to maintain it for very long.


| Withdrawn | Perceptive | Reliable | Pragmatic | Peacemaker | Competent | Broken |

Born in the 'bible belt' of the Americas to Gina and Jeremiah Devereux, two young, devout Christian missionaries from South Carolina, Lorelai never knew her home town. Just ten months after her birth, the Devereux family packed their essentials and moved to Africa with a handful of others from their church on a large-scale mission to bring the word of God to those in need of hope and salvation. They settled on the shores of a small, isolated, impoverished fishing town just outside of Lagos, Nigeria, where they set up shop with their bibles and their sunny, Southern disposition. Gina's medical background and Jeremiah's carpenter skills were offered freely, and they worked hard to make a home for themselves and win the village over, but despite their willingness to help, it took the small community years to trust them enough for any kind of relationships to be formed.

For this was not the first time outsiders had come to them, offered them help, and then betrayed them.

Five years past. It became apparent that the foreigners were not going anywhere, and so one by one, the locals began to open their hearts and their homes. Jeremiah was the first to be trusted, kind and genuine and cheerful in his evangelizing. Gina was last, rather aloof and clinical in her approach. They watched the little golden-haired baby grow into a child, quickly bonding with villagers young and old. The ever-present dangers in Nigera had left many, many children without parents or families, and even young as she was, whether from natural desire or biblical duty, Lorelai would look out for them, bringing them food and clothes, protecting the youngest from the older kids. She helped her father build a large community home for them and was often found there even after the orphans had gone to bed, fixing mosquito nets and swatting away yam beetles or making sure the youngest didn't wander into the ocean at night. The children came to depend on her and the adults came to love her for her caring of their community. At the birth of her little sister, Claire, everyone gathered on the beach for a celebration, singing praises as the sun set, roasting fish over the bonfire. They'd truly become part of the locals.

Fourteen years passed. The sisters grew up alongside the others, mud between their toes, saltwater in their hair, hearts beating in unison with the strong, wild, powerful rhythm of the African people. Where Lorelai evolved into a smart, capable, no-nonsense mother hen, Claire was carefree and untamed, known for her spontaneous, fun-loving nature. Where Lorelai studied and respected (sometimes even feared) the world around her, Claire played obliviously in it. Where Lorelai began to question the words in the revered book her family clung so tightly to, where she started to understand the darker aspects of the way her adopted country worked and lose the faith she'd trusted in since childhood, Claire never wavered, never asked questions or missed church or doubted her mission. Yet the two were inseparable, as different as the sun and the moon, but the center of each other's universes. Lorelai kept Claire safe, and Claire kept Lorelai laughing. Life on the Nigerian coast was hard, but it was home.

Lor was nineteen when it happened. Claire was only fourteen.

(see Mutation Awakening)

After the events of her Awakening left her entire village dead, including her father and her sister, a grieving Gina and Lorelai moved back to the States in their old apartment in South Carolina, hoping to escape the horrors they'd witnessed. Lor hid her powers from her mother, knowing the God-fearing woman would not accept her for what she was. But with her emotions out of control and her world burning around her, Lor knew she couldn't stay hidden for long.

It took some sleuthing on her part, but the young mutant found information on a safe haven for people like her. The Ashford Manor. A new school, of sorts, run by beings with abilities just like hers, and they were looking for new students.

Lorelai packed up the few things she had, and under the guise of attending a normal 'sleep-away' school under scholarship, she left her mother with her extended family and made her way to Ashford Manor, desperate and in pain.

What she'd find there, WHO she'd find there…would change her life forever.

They came at twilight, forced onto the beaches by the storms. Thirteen of them, faces obscured by scarves, guns in hand, eyes cold. Pirates were not a rare thing on the coast of Nigeria, but their quest for oil cargo usually never led them to the shores of poor fishing communities. It's why the village was completely unprepared for their assault. Many were dead before people understood what was happening. Men, women, children, all were cut down as they tore through the houses, looking for anything of value, having been robbed of their chance to secure the cargo they truly wanted.

Lorelai took Claire and as many children as she could gather and barricaded the door to the community house. Gunfire shattered the air over and over as rain beat relentlessly on the roof above them, screams ripped through the wind, rising in duet with the wailing gales as the storm whipped through open doors, thunder shook the wood planks under their feet as the pirates pounded the front door until it broke from its hinges. They dragged the terrified children outside, separated the Devereux sisters from the others (fair-haired white females fetched decent prices), tossed the village kids in the wet sand and raised their guns.
Perhaps they didn't expect the spindly blonde white girl to fight back. But Lorelai had twisted her way out of her captor's grip and grabbed a handgun from his hip holster before they could stop her.
She took aim at the nearest murderer. And she pulled the trigger without a second thought, the cries of her petrified sister and the children who counted on Lorelai sharp in her ears. He fell to the sand, dead.

Lightning illuminated with crisp, unforgiving clarity the grizzly scene around them, and in the few shocked moments before the captain leveled his pistol at Lorelai, she felt something shift in her core, a cool sensation rushing over her body. Dropping her pistol, she spun, preparing for death even as she clawed relentlessly at the man holding Claire. The shot rang out. She winced, moving to shield her sister out of habit. There was a strange sound as the bullet meant for Lorelai ricocheted off her body…
…and tore through Claire.

The next few minutes saw Lorelai's spirit shatter.

They tried again, even as she knelt on the bloody sand cradling her sister's body, but the bullets bounced from her skin in every direction, spraying both friend and foe like shrapnel. She threw an arm out at some point, screaming for them to stop, and her first standing shield appeared. But all it did was add to the chaos, as she was in shock and couldn't figure out how to control it. When the pirates had lost all but four, they turned tail in fear, grabbing a few of the older boys and girls and disappearing into the storm, leaving Lorelai in the center of a circle of dead bodies, pirate and villager.

It was a full twelve hours before her mother left the safety of the jungle and found her, exactly where she'd fallen, clutching Claire like her life depended on it. Jeremiah lay face down in the sand near the community house, dead.

Lorelai never told anyone what had truly happened.

Life in the verse. A Firefly/Serenity RP

@Dark Light, still here! Hard at work on my CS, it's the one thing that takes me forever when it comes to RP. >_>