Name: Amelia/Amy Age: 17 (18/10/00) RP Style: Casual, number of paragraphs depends on my interest in the roleplay (excluding dialogue breaks) Favourite Animes:Psycho Pass/Knights of Sidonia Favourite Music Artists: CAR, THE GARDEN/Salvador Sobral/Alexander Rybak Currently Learning: Norwegian/Kanji
Hiya! I'm Amelia/Amy; a barely-a-gamer, linguistic-lover weeb with a twinge of creativity. I've been roleplaying for about 3 years now though I'm constantly looking for ways to improve. The benefit of tapping away at my keyboard for so long means I know what I like and what those who approach me should expect.
- I have an affinity for writing 2, moderately sized paragraph replies separated by dialogue It all depends on my interest within the roleplay. Seriously, just wowed myself by consistently writing 4 paragraphs per post. I have a tendency of partaking in slow 1-on-1 roleplays with deep, rich, plots full of character, relationship, and situation development.
- I only roleplay as OCs within original universes (though they can be loosely based upon other pre-existing ones)
The genres that I most enjoy are (in no particular order): Drama Conflict Sci-Fi (because who doesn't like sweet, scary, space and high-tech devices!) Slice of life spiced up/done right Romance Mystery If you made it this far... well done. You've somehow got the wherewithal to tolerate my babbling nonsense and have learnt a bit about me in the process. If you didn't? Well, shame on you for skipping to the bottom! <(｀^´)>
Alls well that ends well. Elvira wasn't needed to look after the exhausted Jett even if his rapid depletion in energy levels was her fault. A boy somewhat taller than her had approached with the power of food and generosity; the true makings of a guardian angel. He looked friendly enough though he didn't gain much of Elvira's attention; everything about him was the exact opposite of the girl she was after. Two arms, eye goggles, and his physique was one she wouldn't exactly assume to be capable of ninja-like swiftness. Not to mention the clear difference in gender. Unless...
Elvira clasped her hands in front of her, allowed herself to lean forward upon the very tips of her boots with impeccable balance, and peered into his face. An action that wouldn't have been so intimidating if not for the way her eyes insisted on locking onto his, even if they weren't currently open and focused upon her in the first place. The girl had been taught to not speak unless spoken too, so she employed means of encouraging conversation. The stare was simply one of them. It tended to make people fidget; caused eyes to shift or shoulders to stiffen. Rarely, she got a reaction other than unidentifiable awkwardness. When she did, it truly proved to be a pleasant surprise.
Jais had shown Elvira the classroom she was meant to be in and had even gone as far as to draw miniature versions of the halls and doors leading off them upon the back of her hand in black marker. Just so she wouldn't 'forget' like she often said was to blame for her wanderings. Wanderings such as this one. The brunette didn't purposely go out of her way to oppose all authority. It just happened. Rules were boring. So were instructions. Who invented either of those concepts? A boring person, that's who. A boring person was the only boring one who could make up boring rules and boring, boring, boring. Elvira didn't have the patience to be bear such a weight, not today.
The only reason she'd agreed to attend this academy was to uncover the secret Jett seemed adamant on withholding. Quirk removal. It was almost ironic; the girl would have said so herself if she understood the base of irony. Coming to an academy that encouraged and facilitated quirk development to rid herself of that very same thing? To an outsider, it sounded crazy. To Elvira, it was saner than the students willing to bash one another to bits for the sake of displaying heroism. Why anyone would want to be a hero, despite having been saved by one herself, was beyond her. Come to think of it, shouldn't she be concerned about-
'I don't trust myself once I hear your call~'
Elvira's head twitched to the side somewhat, her hearing reacting quicker than any other sense. Was that... music? It wasn't coming from the speaker system - if this academy had one. No, it was much too faint for that to be a possibility. The lyrics were muffled but the girl's sharp hearing could still make out the majority of the words. Not Japanese. Not Russian either. Elvira deemed it as foreign. The steady melody seemed to be coming from a door coincidentally located past the one she should have went through. Nobody was expecting her... Elvira didn't think so anyway. There was no harm in investigating.
The girl's steps, high in volume due to the boots she insisted on wearing along with her school uniform, quickened down the hall. Before she had even got into arm's length of the door, her hand, already outstretched and ready to come into contact with the door, flexed the fingers that belonged to it. Whatever was beyond on the other side would surely cure the entertainment predicament she found herself. She was bound to be faced with repercussions later on. Elvira would think of something when need be.
Aged 16, Elvira stands at 5'5" and weights 110lb. She has dark, chocolate brown, hair that flows down to just under her chest. Her eyes are purple - when her quirk is active or a link remains/is being maintained, they become patterned and slightly luminous.
The Pustoy family were not one to take lightly. Connections, traditions, and malicious intentions allowed them to rule over their small kingdom with an iron fist. They called it ‘enforcing equality’. A mantra repeatedly plastered upon every building wall and said by fearful locals faced by confrontation. No establishment within the Pustoy’s district could operate without some reference to the good they had so generously supplied to the long-forgotten, hidden part of Moscow. Shadows became their greatest - and only - ally. The Pustoy law came before any. Had an altercation that could only be resolved by the justice system? Pustoy law and compassion (or lack of) was what any ‘lower tier’ locals received. Penuriousness was not tolerated. Wealthy? A hefty donation could prove you as the exception to this rule.
Their reign had no end in sight. Pustoy‘s current head figure and his wife had a son who was destined to be the next leader. A constant stream of time and money was invested into the young adult with the aim to fine tune him to Pustoy excellence. Someone worthy of the family name. With each passing day, their strength surged. Nothing was capable of slowing down a force of such magnitude. However, there was one chink in the armour. An unspeakable, blatant, truth, if you will. A risky conversational topic tossed around sleazy bars, heated vagabonds, and delirious locals. They removed it from the public eye, destroyed any records of the disgrace to the family but alas, it was not enough.
They had a daughter, Elvira. A foreigner would never see her. Not in photographs, videos or even historical documents related to the inhabitants of Moscow but she was real. At least, she thought she was. Reality was not a certainty for Elvira. When the majority of your days were made up of conversations with your crudely put together stuffed bear, the hazy lines between what’s real and what’s not tend to blur even more. The girl had learnt to define life as that. They were the only two categories that were capable of containing life’s events albeit the second category was much larger than the first. Loss of vision fitted into this - the loss of colour. So did the sudden fluffy clouds that danced around people. Elvira only paid attention to them because, well, they demanded to be seen. In an array of colour, they stood out against the mundane, monochrome background that life had suddenly become. For a 4 year old to comprehend such a philosophical quality about the world that extended no further than her bedroom door, many sacrifices were made. This realisation acted as a trigger for the events to come.
It started off with her mother coming to visit every so often. She’d bring small things; a button to replace the dilapidated state of Pchelka, Elvira’s teddy bear, or tidbits of Tula gingerbread. Then her mother stayed for a few minutes, made awkward attempts at talking to her only daughter - what more could she do? She’d never seen what the little girl did - or didn’t - do all day. Children and their aimless habits weren’t on the Pustoy agenda. What the girl was capable of was.
Shunned for an ability that possessed no physical force, Elvira’s insistent attempts at alerting everyone to the change in the world were finally noticed. Her brother listened. Sat patiently and nodded his head to every little word. He wouldn’t comment nor call her silly like their parents had done. Elvira trusted her brother with her life. On her 7th birthday, she received a gift a child should never have to simper after. She earned the right to be seen. Elvira’s mother taught her how to bake sweet Russian delicacies, her brother cajoled smiles from the persistent expression of doubt and sadness from her face, her father finally recognised her as a Pustoy. Finally, the little girl was able to feel snow for the first time in her life. Feel the sun directly upon her back, the wind tousling her locks. They showered her in affection to make up for those long days not an ounce was given. Elvira was never happier.
At the age of 10, Elvira witnessed the gradual change over. Her brother soon became the head of the family, Father no longer stood upright with pride. He wilted like the flowers Elvira intently watched for hours at a time in the transition from autumn to winter outside. Her brother thrived off the cold and, much like anything you let creep in, nestled itself deep within the soul and ate away at it’s occupant.. From puffs of yellow to green with spikes of raging red, Elvira worried day and night for the outcome of Big Brother.
Big Brother had other plans. Things were running smoother than anything his father had ever managed. There was just one small issue. With the switch over, people were beginning to fear the Pustoy family less and less. Without fear, tyrants were soon to be spoilt children playing dress up. A notion that consumed the young man with rage. He hadn’t suffered through trials and tribulations to simply give up his high position before he’d even sat down. No, something had to be done. His parents had been too weak to carry out the plan they’d started when Elvira was 7. He was the new generation - if he had to take charge of the situation then so be it.
Elvira did whatever Big Brother instructed her to do; he knew best. Even if it meant hearing the terrified screams of locals as they tried to combat the influx of terror in their systems. Sometimes, just sometimes, if the screams and pleading became too loud or Big Brother impatient, she’d feel it. Her hairs stand up to attention on the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat adorning her forehead. 14 year old Elvira had been forced to manipulate a… woman? Man? She couldn’t remember nor was she meant too. This was her job. Forcing herself to stand her ground and battle against the overbearing urge to bolt out of the house, out of this town, out of this country, and never look back… it was an expected occupational hazard. The feeling refused to leave her though. She found herself constantly checking over her shoulder, watching the shadows contort and shift upon her bedroom walls. The girl had become scared of a monster she didn’t know the face of. No longer did her room offer up the solitude she found comfort in. Elvira needed a way out. Not just of this room but out of this life. An idiot could see whatever she was cursed with was just that - a curse needing to be cured. An affliction, she believed, that had led to the downfall of her entire family.
Under the veil of the Pustoy’s greatest allies, Elvira dashed through the barren streets of her home district. She had one goal in mind. Restore what she had so carelessly destroyed. If that meant that Big Brother had to suffer through his emotional turmoil for a few more months, then so be it. Elvira, not used to the harsh urban environment, barely made it to the outskirts of Moscow when she was forced to declare her cluelessness. What was expected when someone stretched out their hand towards you; Elvira had no clue. How would she know what to do in a crisis such as this? Alone and afraid, she appreciated the stranger who implored about her troubles. He looked friendly enough, if not a little ragged. In her current situation, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ never fit so well.. He listened, nodded, did not comment until she was fully done. Just like Big Brother. Lulled into a sense of safety, she did not notice the thin ribbons of vivid black that slithered close by. Everything else, Elvira doesn’t quite remember.
When she woke up, the girl had definitely been better. Her hair billowed just at her waist, bags tormented under her eyes, a hollowness in her cheeks sucked out the child-like youthfulness from her face, multiple marks and bruises no normal instrument could achieve covered the majority of her body. The odd thing was, she didn’t feel it. At least, not the pain and discomfort she ought to feel after passing out for what she believed to be a couple of hours. Not at first. It was just a dull ache that demanded to be noticed, not felt. Like an echo of damage done long ago.
The man before her did not seem preoccupied with her appearance nor with the blank, slightly furrowed brow look the girl offered to him. No, the first words out of his mouth were “You’re safe now” Elvira didn’t quite get it. Safe? Wasn’t she already? The poor girl could never have had a worser grasp on time. “Hours? My young girl, it’s been years. We knew of this place but getting you all out; it took planning” She couldn’t quite believe it. Her hands instinctively flew up to hide her seemingly reddened face, to wipe away the tears but… none threatened to slip down her cheeks. No heartache about back home, no regret, not even the black and white that filled her hazy vision shook sorrow from her core. Nothing.
He introduced himself as Jais Haven. A stylish hero that left a great impression upon Elvira. Jais did everything in his power to uncover the reason for why a girl as young as her would be found in a deserted place like this. The tale she calmly recited did little to soothe the true hero’s worries for her safety. Troubled by the burden of her quirk, Jais saw only one option for her. If Elvira was to learn the joys of her quirk, she was going to have to be in an environment that celebrated, not exploited, these enhanced strengths. Someone who was once confused about their own self identity - someone to keep Elvira out of harm's way. Wasn’t that the greatest safe guard? Not only would he unknowingly affect Elvira’s entire outlook on life, but also the people who were to come into contact with her too.
That explains how Elvira ended up in Japan - Hosu, to be exact. During the months that followed up to her attending the academy, Jett’s mother - a kind soul who was adamant about making the ‘right’ choices - took her in after hearing the story from Jais. Every so often, Jais would visit to check up on Elvira but with a mother like Jett’s, it was nothing but joy in that household. Though she still showed no emotion, Elvira began to warm up to those around her. Especially the two younger girls. They proudly marched around declaring her as their ‘Nee-san’. Any objections would be met with a fierce glare from the two of them. Just like the two girls adored Elvira, Elvira obsessed over ‘Jetty’. Lost in translation, Elvira had taken Jais’s story of Jett controlling his ADHD to better his quirk as him ridding himself of it. Jett showed no sign of sharing his secret during the months she spent with him. He protected her, wagged a finger whenever she did something stupid ,sure. Elvira was grateful but… the one thing she wanted the most was to know how he’d done it. In hopes that the boy was simply reclusive when it came to that topic, she keeps her phone on her at all times.. After all, typing what you want to say is much easier than actually saying it.
Elvira was passed as the ‘transfer student’ to others. Nothing else of her past or the events that had transpired were ever mentioned by staff or pupil.. Odd considering she already seemed familiar with a fellow student called Jett.
As of late, Elvira doesn't have a hero costume. This is subject to change.
Description and limits of quirk
Elvira’s quirk involves both the unique, almost palpable perspective of emotions in the form of colour and the ability to manipulate both them and their partners, hormones. Emotions are ruled by hormones - at least to a certain extent. Adrenaline, a hormone proven to improve physical performance, and Oxytocin, one that affects pain perception, can be affected by Elvira’s quirk just like many other substances coursing through the veins of a modern day hero. A mental link (that people often report feels like a light, barely noticeable pressure upon their brain) is needed to be created between her and the person before any modification can be made. Due to her lack of knowledge with emotions, the link is absolutely necessary. However, there are limits to this passive ability:
1. She refuses to manipulate the emotions of any unwilling hosts (people).
2. Ever since her quirk kicked in, Elvira became colour blind. The only form of colour the girl can detect is the aura-like cloud surrounding people that depict their current, dominant, emotional state.
3. Elvira can only increase existing emotions within the host by using a multiply-addition system. She copies the emotion within herself then gives it up to the host. This process can be repeated many times - there may be a more efficient way out there for her to discover.
4. Some emotions can’t be comprehended by the Russian and so can’t be manipulated correctly (ones such as love, sentimental feelings, adoration, obsessions, happiness). Risk of failure increases dramatically when handling these sort of feelings. Primal ones such as adrenaline can be understood by Elvira and therefore have a much lower risk of failure percentage.
Risk of failure (25%)
Though many have perfected their quirk, Elvira is still new to hers considering she suffered a partial memory wipe as a result of attempting to rid herself of it. There have been and still are instances of failures. When this happens and Elvira is either in the middle of or currently in an emotional link (“ssylka” with the indefinite article ‘a’ always omitted), the manipulation can backfire. Risk of failure increases the more intense the emotion she’s trying to battle is. She either experiences the direct opposite of the emotion she was trying to heighten (note that she cannot create, only build on what the person is already feeling). As a result, the girl is dubbed with having a tinge of multiple personality disorder when change is brought on by failure. The length of this transference depends on two factors; how intense the emotion of the host is and the current mental and/or physical strength of Elvira.
Ssylka (The Link), it’s importance, what happens during it, and how to break it
Without it, Elvira wouldn’t be able to do the repetitive relay method that her quirk relies on. The link can sometimes, in rare occasions, uncover non-dominant emotions currently ruling the host. Thus, the process of her creating a link can come along with daunting or even personal connotations. During the connection, Elvira is temporarily weaker in terms of physical strength. Her reaction times are reduced and healing abillity is affected. Mentally, due to all power ‘diverting’ towards maintaining the link, other aspects are neglected. Sentences are jumbled, words are forgotten and in the most drastic situations, temporary memory loss occurs. Much more effects that haven’t been documented by Elvira or witnesses herself are possible also.
Abruptly breaking the link results in higher chances of negative backlash. However, if someone desires to do so and luck is upon the Russian girl’s side, she will only experience a momentarily stun and headache. She won’t be able to use her quirk again for a tleast a quarter of an hour. To break the ssylka, one must affect Elvira mentally (distractions). A change in environment or a personal remark could be enough to do this, depending on what is said.
Elvira was taught how to play piano by her sweet Big Brother. Not soon after, her mother banned her. The melodies that the little Russian pattered out jerked tears from her mother’s heart of stone. Emotion, her mother had said, was a weakness no Pustoy should bear.
Nature became something the girl admired ever since she looked outside the window. Just because she lost the ability to see normal colour doesn’t mean her love for it lessened. In fact, the adoration for the flowers that blossomed and the rain that drummed out a lullaby is what partly drives her to getting rid of her quirk. To see the colourful beauty in Mother Nature once again. She keeps a little Crocus plant upon her living quarter’s window sill.
Baking remains one of Elvira’s most loved past times. Baking all the Russian sweets help remind her why she agreed to be thrown into the madness of this academy in the first place!
It’s hard to spot Elvira’s true personality amongst the ones she absorbs. Content with using her host’s emotions rather than developing the severely low levels of her own back to their default state, Elvira’s default is made up of a blank stare with an inkling of a frown. Her innocent, child-like, nature and lack of knowledge in terms of social interaction can often be mistaken for rudeness, bluntness and sarcasm. If confronted about her comments having malicious intentions, Elvira will simply give you a that infamous look of hers and pass yet another comment - one that might not bode well with the person who asked. If you’re a stranger, she won’t speak unless spoken too - a self taught mannerism that has stuck with her throughout her young childhood. If you’re considered a friend, she’ll be less reserved, offering up her opinion on the matter whether it’s needed or not. Being her friend is a status that the girl rarely gives out not because she’s reluctant to do so but because she doesn’t entirely know what a friend is.
Her voice is soft, dream-like and the slowness of her speech can sometimes put across a sense of aimlessness.
Contrary to what the slowness of her speech suggests, her Japanese is fairly good. Certainly beyond the point of simply being understood. Thanks to Jett, his younger sisters and their laborious efforts, Elvira can easily structure sentences without falling victim to linguistic nuances. Occasionally, she may call something by the affectionate names Jett’s younger sisters fondly used.
Aged 16, Elvira stands at 5'5" and weights 110lb. She has dark, chocolate brown, hair that flows down to just under her chest. Her eyes are purple - when her quirk is active or a link remains/is being maintained, they become patterned and slightly luminous.
The Pustoy family were not one to take lightly. Connections, traditions, and malicious intentions allowed them to rule over their small kingdom with an iron fist. They called it ‘enforcing equality’. A mantra repeatedly plastered upon every building wall and said by fearful locals faced by confrontation. No establishment within the Pustoy’s district could operate without some reference to the good they had so generously supplied to the long-forgotten, hidden part of Moscow. Shadows became their greatest - and only - ally. The Pustoy law came before any. Had an altercation that could only be resolved by the justice system? Pustoy law and compassion (or lack of) was what any ‘lower tier’ locals received. Penuriousness was not tolerated. Wealthy? A hefty donation could prove you as the exception to this rule.
Their reign had no end in sight. Pustoy‘s current head figure and his wife had a son who was destined to be the next leader. A constant stream of time and money was invested into the young adult with the aim to fine tune him to Pustoy excellence. Someone worthy of the family name. With each passing day, their strength surged. Nothing was capable of slowing down a force of such magnitude. However, there was one chink in the armour. An unspeakable, blatant, truth, if you will. A risky conversational topic tossed around sleazy bars, heated vagabonds, and delirious locals. They removed it from the public eye, destroyed any records of the disgrace to the family but alas, it was not enough.
They had a daughter, Elvira. A foreigner would never see her. Not in photographs, videos or even historical documents related to the inhabitants of Moscow but she was real. At least, she thought she was. Reality was not a certainty for Elvira. When the majority of your days were made up of conversations with your crudely put together stuffed bear, the hazy lines between what’s real and what’s not tend to blur even more. The girl had learnt to define life as that. They were the only two categories that were capable of containing life’s events albeit the second category was much larger than the first. Loss of vision fitted into this - the loss of colour. So did the sudden fluffy clouds that danced around people. Elvira only paid attention to them because, well, they demanded to be seen. In an array of colour, they stood out against the mundane, monochrome background that life had suddenly become. For a 4 year old to comprehend such a philosophical quality about the world that extended no further than her bedroom door, many sacrifices were made. This realisation acted as a trigger for the events to come.
It started off with her mother coming to visit every so often. She’d bring small things; a button to replace the dilapidated state of Pchelka, Elvira’s teddy bear, or tidbits of Tula gingerbread. Then her mother stayed for a few minutes, made awkward attempts at talking to her only daughter - what more could she do? She’d never seen what the little girl did - or didn’t - do all day. Children and their aimless habits weren’t on the Pustoy agenda. What the girl was capable of was.
Shunned for an ability that possessed no physical force, Elvira’s insistent attempts at alerting everyone to the change in the world were finally noticed. Her brother listened. Sat patiently and nodded his head to every little word. He wouldn’t comment nor call her silly like their parents had done. Elvira trusted her brother with her life. On her 7th birthday, she received a gift a child should never have to simper after. She earned the right to be seen. Elvira’s mother taught her how to bake sweet Russian delicacies, her brother cajoled smiles from the persistent expression of doubt and sadness from her face, her father finally recognised her as a Pustoy. Finally, the little girl was able to feel snow for the first time in her life. Feel the sun directly upon her back, the wind tousling her locks. They showered her in affection to make up for those long days not an ounce was given. Elvira was never happier.
At the age of 10, Elvira witnessed the gradual change over. Her brother soon became the head of the family, Father no longer stood upright with pride. He wilted like the flowers Elvira intently watched for hours at a time in the transition from autumn to winter outside. Her brother thrived off the cold and, much like anything you let creep in, nestled itself deep within the soul and ate away at it’s occupant.. From puffs of yellow to green with spikes of raging red, Elvira worried day and night for the outcome of Big Brother.
Big Brother had other plans. Things were running smoother than anything his father had ever managed. There was just one small issue. With the switch over, people were beginning to fear the Pustoy family less and less. Without fear, tyrants were soon to be spoilt children playing dress up. A notion that consumed the young man with rage. He hadn’t suffered through trials and tribulations to simply give up his high position before he’d even sat down. No, something had to be done. His parents had been too weak to carry out the plan they’d started when Elvira was 7. He was the new generation - if he had to take charge of the situation then so be it.
Elvira did whatever Big Brother instructed her to do; he knew best. Even if it meant hearing the terrified screams of locals as they tried to combat the influx of terror in their systems. Sometimes, just sometimes, if the screams and pleading became too loud or Big Brother impatient, she’d feel it. Her hairs stand up to attention on the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat adorning her forehead. 14 year old Elvira had been forced to manipulate a… woman? Man? She couldn’t remember nor was she meant too. This was her job. Forcing herself to stand her ground and battle against the overbearing urge to bolt out of the house, out of this town, out of this country, and never look back… it was an expected occupational hazard. The feeling refused to leave her though. She found herself constantly checking over her shoulder, watching the shadows contort and shift upon her bedroom walls. The girl had become scared of a monster she didn’t know the face of. No longer did her room offer up the solitude she found comfort in. Elvira needed a way out. Not just of this room but out of this life. An idiot could see whatever she was cursed with was just that - a curse needing to be cured. An affliction, she believed, that had led to the downfall of her entire family.
Under the veil of the Pustoy’s greatest allies, Elvira dashed through the barren streets of her home district. She had one goal in mind. Restore what she had so carelessly destroyed. If that meant that Big Brother had to suffer through his emotional turmoil for a few more months, then so be it. Elvira, not used to the harsh urban environment, barely made it to the outskirts of Moscow when she was forced to declare her cluelessness. What was expected when someone stretched out their hand towards you; Elvira had no clue. How would she know what to do in a crisis such as this? Alone and afraid, she appreciated the stranger who implored about her troubles. He looked friendly enough, if not a little ragged. In her current situation, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ never fit so well.. He listened, nodded, did not comment until she was fully done. Just like Big Brother. Lulled into a sense of safety, she did not notice the thin ribbons of vivid black that slithered close by. Everything else, Elvira doesn’t quite remember.
When she woke up, the girl had definitely been better. Her hair billowed just at her waist, bags tormented under her eyes, a hollowness in her cheeks sucked out the child-like youthfulness from her face, multiple marks and bruises no normal instrument could achieve covered the majority of her body. The odd thing was, she didn’t feel it. At least, not the pain and discomfort she ought to feel after passing out for what she believed to be a couple of hours. Not at first. It was just a dull ache that demanded to be noticed, not felt. Like an echo of damage done long ago.
The man before her did not seem preoccupied with her appearance nor with the blank, slightly furrowed brow look the girl offered to him. No, the first words out of his mouth were “You’re safe now” Elvira didn’t quite get it. Safe? Wasn’t she already? The poor girl could never have had a worser grasp on time. “Hours? My young girl, it’s been years. We knew of this place but getting you all out; it took planning” She couldn’t quite believe it. Her hands instinctively flew up to hide her seemingly reddened face, to wipe away the tears but… none threatened to slip down her cheeks. No heartache about back home, no regret, not even the black and white that filled her hazy vision shook sorrow from her core. Nothing.
He introduced himself as Jais Haven. A stylish hero that left a great impression upon Elvira. Jais did everything in his power to uncover the reason for why a girl as young as her would be found in a deserted place like this. The tale she calmly recited did little to soothe the true hero’s worries for her safety. Troubled by the burden of her quirk, Jais saw only one option for her. If Elvira was to learn the joys of her quirk, she was going to have to be in an environment that celebrated, not exploited, these enhanced strengths. Someone who was once confused about their own self identity - someone to keep Elvira out of harm's way. Wasn’t that the greatest safe guard? Not only would he unknowingly affect Elvira’s entire outlook on life, but also the people who were to come into contact with her too.
That explains how Elvira ended up in Japan - Hosu, to be exact. During the months that followed up to her attending the academy, Jett’s mother - a kind soul who was adamant about making the ‘right’ choices - took her in after hearing the story from Jais. Every so often, Jais would visit to check up on Elvira but with a mother like Jett’s, it was nothing but joy in that household. Though she still showed no emotion, Elvira began to warm up to those around her. Especially the two younger girls. They proudly marched around declaring her as their ‘Nee-san’. Any objections would be met with a fierce glare from the two of them. Just like the two girls adored Elvira, Elvira obsessed over ‘Jetty’. Lost in translation, Elvira had taken Jais’s story of Jett controlling his ADHD to better his quirk as him ridding himself of it. Jett showed no sign of sharing his secret during the months she spent with him. He protected her, wagged a finger whenever she did something stupid ,sure. Elvira was grateful but… the one thing she wanted the most was to know how he’d done it. In hopes that the boy was simply reclusive when it came to that topic, she keeps her phone on her at all times.. After all, typing what you want to say is much easier than actually saying it.
Elvira was passed as the ‘transfer student’ to others. Nothing else of her past or the events that had transpired were ever mentioned by staff or pupil.. Odd considering she already seemed familiar with a fellow student called Jett.
As of late, Elvira doesn't have a hero costume. This is subject to change.
Description and limits of quirk
Elvira’s quirk involves both the unique, almost palpable perspective of emotions in the form of colour and the ability to manipulate both them and their partners, hormones. Emotions are ruled by hormones - at least to a certain extent. Adrenaline, a hormone proven to improve physical performance, and Oxytocin, one that affects pain perception, can be affected by Elvira’s quirk just like many other substances coursing through the veins of a modern day hero. A mental link (that people often report feels like a light, barely noticeable pressure upon their brain) is needed to be created between her and the person before any modification can be made. Due to her lack of knowledge with emotions, the link is absolutely necessary. However, there are limits to this passive ability:
1. She refuses to manipulate the emotions of any unwilling hosts (people).
2. Ever since her quirk kicked in, Elvira became colour blind. The only form of colour the girl can detect is the aura-like cloud surrounding people that depict their current, dominant, emotional state.
3. Elvira can only increase existing emotions within the host by using a multiply-addition system. She copies the emotion within herself then gives it up to the host. This process can be repeated many times - there may be a more efficient way out there for her to discover.
4. Some emotions can’t be comprehended by the Russian and so can’t be manipulated correctly (ones such as love, sentimental feelings, adoration, obsessions, happiness). Risk of failure increases dramatically when handling these sort of feelings. Primal ones such as adrenaline can be understood by Elvira and therefore have a much lower risk of failure percentage.
Risk of failure (25%)
Though many have perfected their quirk, Elvira is still new to hers considering she suffered a partial memory wipe as a result of attempting to rid herself of it. There have been and still are instances of failures. When this happens and Elvira is either in the middle of or currently in an emotional link (“ssylka” with the indefinite article ‘a’ always omitted), the manipulation can backfire. Risk of failure increases the more intense the emotion she’s trying to battle is. She either experiences the direct opposite of the emotion she was trying to heighten (note that she cannot create, only build on what the person is already feeling). As a result, the girl is dubbed with having a tinge of multiple personality disorder when change is brought on by failure. The length of this transference depends on two factors; how intense the emotion of the host is and the current mental and/or physical strength of Elvira.
Ssylka (The Link), it’s importance, what happens during it, and how to break it
Without it, Elvira wouldn’t be able to do the repetitive relay method that her quirk relies on. The link can sometimes, in rare occasions, uncover non-dominant emotions currently ruling the host. Thus, the process of her creating a link can come along with daunting or even personal connotations. During the connection, Elvira is temporarily weaker in terms of physical strength. Her reaction times are reduced and healing abillity is affected. Mentally, due to all power ‘diverting’ towards maintaining the link, other aspects are neglected. Sentences are jumbled, words are forgotten and in the most drastic situations, temporary memory loss occurs. Much more effects that haven’t been documented by Elvira or witnesses herself are possible also.
Abruptly breaking the link results in higher chances of negative backlash. However, if someone desires to do so and luck is upon the Russian girl’s side, she will only experience a momentarily stun and headache. She won’t be able to use her quirk again for a tleast a quarter of an hour. To break the ssylka, one must affect Elvira mentally (distractions). A change in environment or a personal remark could be enough to do this, depending on what is said.
Elvira was taught how to play piano by her sweet Big Brother. Not soon after, her mother banned her. The melodies that the little Russian pattered out jerked tears from her mother’s heart of stone. Emotion, her mother had said, was a weakness no Pustoy should bear.
Nature became something the girl admired ever since she looked outside the window. Just because she lost the ability to see normal colour doesn’t mean her love for it lessened. In fact, the adoration for the flowers that blossomed and the rain that drummed out a lullaby is what partly drives her to getting rid of her quirk. To see the colourful beauty in Mother Nature once again. She keeps a little Crocus plant upon her living quarter’s window sill.
Baking remains one of Elvira’s most loved past times. Baking all the Russian sweets help remind her why she agreed to be thrown into the madness of this academy in the first place!
It’s hard to spot Elvira’s true personality amongst the ones she absorbs. Content with using her host’s emotions rather than developing the severely low levels of her own back to their default state, Elvira’s default is made up of a blank stare with an inkling of a frown. Her innocent, child-like, nature and lack of knowledge in terms of social interaction can often be mistaken for rudeness, bluntness and sarcasm. If confronted about her comments having malicious intentions, Elvira will simply give you a that infamous look of hers and pass yet another comment - one that might not bode well with the person who asked. If you’re a stranger, she won’t speak unless spoken too - a self taught mannerism that has stuck with her throughout her young childhood. If you’re considered a friend, she’ll be less reserved, offering up her opinion on the matter whether it’s needed or not. Being her friend is a status that the girl rarely gives out not because she’s reluctant to do so but because she doesn’t entirely know what a friend is.
Her voice is soft, dream-like and the slowness of her speech can sometimes put across a sense of aimlessness.
Contrary to what the slowness of her speech suggests, her Japanese is fairly good. Certainly beyond the point of simply being understood. Thanks to Jett, his younger sisters and their laborious efforts, Elvira can easily structure sentences without falling victim to linguistic nuances. Occasionally, she may call something by the affectionate names Jett’s younger sisters fondly used.
Alas, summer is upon us. Time to procrastinate for longer than usual!
Hiya! I'm Amelia/Amy; a barely-a-gamer weeb with a twinge of creativity. A friend of mine convinced me to consider joining this forum many moons ago and I've only just mustered up the effort (or courage) to do so. Since I'll be going away on vacation soon and will have plenty of leisure time on my hands, now seemed like a better time than ever to build a face for me on these forums.
I've been roleplaying for about 3 years now though I'm constantly looking for ways to improve. The benefit of tapping away at my keyboard for so long means I know what I like and what those who approach me should expect.
- I have an affinity for writing one big chunk of a paragraph replies separated by dialogue. This ties in with my tendency to partake in slow 1-on-1 roleplays with deep, rich, plots full of character, relationship, and situation development. After the second paragraph, I find I become more monologue-y and the length of those extra paragraphs shorten.
- I only roleplay as OCs within original universes (though they can be loosely based upon other pre-existing ones)
The genres that I most enjoy are (in no particular order): Drama Conflict Sci-Fi (because who doesn't like sweet, scary, space and high-tech devices!) If you made it this far... well done. You've somehow got the wherewithal to tolerate my babbling nonsense and have learnt a bit about me in the process. If you didn't? Well, shame on you for skipping to the bottom! <(｀^´)>
[b]Name:[/b] Amelia/Amy
[b]Age:[/b] 17 (18/10/00)
[b]RP Style: [/b]Casual, number of paragraphs depends on my interest in the roleplay (excluding dialogue breaks)
[b]Favourite Animes:[/b] [i]Psycho Pass/Knights of Sidonia[/i]
[b]Favourite Music Artists: [/b][i]CAR, THE GARDEN/Salvador Sobral/Alexander Rybak[/i]
[b]Currently Learning: [/b][i]Norwegian/Kanji[/i]
Hiya! I'm Amelia/Amy; a barely-a-gamer, linguistic-lover weeb with a twinge of creativity. I've been roleplaying for about 3 years now though I'm constantly looking for ways to improve. The benefit of tapping away at my keyboard for so long means I know what I like and what those who approach me should expect.
- [s]I have an affinity for writing 2, moderately sized paragraph replies separated by dialogue[/s] It all depends on my interest within the roleplay. Seriously, just wowed myself by consistently writing 4 paragraphs per post. I have a tendency of partaking in slow 1-on-1 roleplays with deep, rich, plots full of character, relationship, and situation development.
- I only roleplay as OCs within original universes (though they can be loosely based upon other pre-existing ones)
The genres that I most enjoy are (in no particular order):
Drama
Conflict
Sci-Fi (because who doesn't like sweet, scary, space and high-tech devices!)
Slice of life spiced up/done right
Romance
Mystery
[hr]
If you made it this far... well done. You've somehow got the wherewithal to tolerate my babbling nonsense and have learnt a bit about me in the process. If you didn't? Well, shame on you for skipping to the bottom! <(｀^´)>
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><span class="bb-b">Name:</span> Amelia/Amy<br><span class="bb-b">Age:</span> 17 (18/10/00)<br><span class="bb-b">RP Style: </span>Casual, number of paragraphs depends on my interest in the roleplay (excluding dialogue breaks)<br><span class="bb-b">Favourite Animes:</span> <span class="bb-i">Psycho Pass/Knights of Sidonia</span><br><span class="bb-b">Favourite Music Artists: </span><span class="bb-i">CAR, THE GARDEN/Salvador Sobral/Alexander Rybak</span><br><span class="bb-b">Currently Learning: </span><span class="bb-i">Norwegian/Kanji</span><br><br>Hiya! I'm Amelia/Amy; a barely-a-gamer, linguistic-lover weeb with a twinge of creativity. I've been roleplaying for about 3 years now though I'm constantly looking for ways to improve. The benefit of tapping away at my keyboard for so long means I know what I like and what those who approach me should expect. <br><br>- <span class="bb-s">I have an affinity for writing 2, moderately sized paragraph replies separated by dialogue</span> It all depends on my interest within the roleplay. Seriously, just wowed myself by consistently writing 4 paragraphs per post. I have a tendency of partaking in slow 1-on-1 roleplays with deep, rich, plots full of character, relationship, and situation development. <br><br>- I only roleplay as OCs within original universes (though they can be loosely based upon other pre-existing ones)<br><br>The genres that I most enjoy are (in no particular order):<br>Drama<br>Conflict<br>Sci-Fi (because who doesn't like sweet, scary, space and high-tech devices!)<br>Slice of life spiced up/done right<br>Romance<br>Mystery<br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>If you made it this far... well done. You've somehow got the wherewithal to tolerate my babbling nonsense and have learnt a bit about me in the process. If you didn't? Well, shame on you for skipping to the bottom! <(｀^´)></div>
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