Liriia's Characters

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Glo

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| Name |

Gloria Angel Torres
– Often used nicknames: Glo, Gio, Ria, Angel, ect.

| Date of Birth |

May 5th, 1997 (19)

| Gender |

Female

| Sexuality |

Bisexual

| In-Depth Appearance |

Gio is a youth with what most call a 'natural' kind of beauty. Her face is heart-shaped and small, and often hidden behind her wildly messy brown hair. Her lips are full, nose small, and eyes just the perfect amount of "bored" to warrant her being some kind of model. Thick eyebrows furrow when frustrated, and her expressions usually ranges from bored to annoyed within a few moments. Despite her expressive face, however, she is surprisingly small, standing at a mere 5'3". Her body curves into countless circles, with broad shoulders, a large bust, a chubby waist, and a big butt making up most of her proportions.

Though she often goes makeup-less, those from back home would know she is a fan of lipsticks and eyeliners. She enjoys feeling and looking natural, and is rather boastful about her lucky looks. Due to this, she often ends up looking like a slob. Her sense of fashion is generally on the poor side due to her family's circumstances and her general interest in a sort of trash chic aesthetic. Most of her jeans have hole sin them, most of her shirts have been cut through to make stripes of fabric, and some people have sworn to see her walking around in a garbage bag dress once, long, long ago.

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| Personality |

♦ Opinionated ♦ Independent ♦ Selfless ♦ Sensible ♦

Gloria is sensible in a way most mothers are sensible. Wisdom of the streets and wisdom of life comes into play if situations unfold against her, and Gloria isn't afraid to speak out against things that disrupt her morals or endanger her friends. Sensibility comes from AP classes and poor neighborhoods. From wordless bullying and from general cynicism. Gloria is sensible because of her past and her eventual future, and she's fine with that. If her reasoning is clear and her decisions are safe and helpful then she doesn't have to worry about how she got to such conclusions. The past doesn't matter then, only the present.

Independence and strong ideals formed from caring for herself at a young age. Her parents were hard workers and unconditionally loving, but they were rarely around so Glo was left to fend for herself. She didn't mind, it taught her life skills. She can cook and clean like any seasoned housewife/husband can, and she even finds pleasure in it somewhat. It's calming, but not something she would want to do with her life. Feminist ideals run through Gloria like the blood in her veins, and she isn't afraid to share her thoughts and opinions due to them. Of course, she is a fan of debating her ideals, and from this practice an odd, intense stubbornness set into her bones. Her headstrong attitude definitely comes off as abrasive and rude to new comers, but really it's just Gloria attempting to defend her point or herself.

Because words are all she has to protect herself with.

Gloria is a cynic. She can't help it, growing up in a suspicious house in a suspicious neighborhood. She doesn't take well to new comers and has trouble finding trust in even her closest friends. People are harder to believe in, she has found, after spending countless hours with plants and animals. Beings that couldn't speak to were much easier to get along with, sadly, and Gloria often takes a dya alone at the zoo in favor of a day out with acquaintances. Gloria also holds some very deep rooted self esteem issues, and has problems with being ignored even if she wants to be alone. Her school life left her with some issues that have yet to work themselves out, and Gloria often takes out her fears of her body or her friends on those around her when things become too stressful.

Nonetheless, Gloria is a maternal soul who lives for each good time that awaits them. She's a quick thinker, especially in stressful situations, but easily cracks under too much pressure if alone or vulnerable.

| Likes & Dislikes |

✔ Nature and all it's wonderful beings. Gloria is in love with both plants and animals and had plan to study either Biology or Zoology in college.
✔ Women's History and rights.
✔ Cars. All kinds of cars, even the she had a rust bucket of a Camry she had back at home.
✔ Working, especially for money.
✔ Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, ect. All these nerdy, spacey shows are her guilty pleasure.
✔ Food. Not any preference just... Food.
✔ Photography. She always has her Polaroid on her no matter the situation.
✘ English, both the subject and the language.
✘ New places and new people. She has a hard time introducing herself; most can't get passed the accent.
✘ Makeup, it's a hassle to apply and remove. Besides, her mother has always said she looked better bare.
✘ Litterers, animal abusers, people who take the earth and nature for granted.
✘ Reading, books, anything on paper that isn't a scientific formula or math equation.
✘ Soda and fizzy water. Ick, bubbles!
✘ Dark, narrow places. Alleyways are her worst nightmare.

| History |

Gloria was a poor girl spending her times alone in the halls of a rich school. Scholarships only got her so far in the world. They bought her access to halls of knowledge and options for the future, but they couldn't buy her attention. Most of the students in school ignored her, kept her in the back, alienated her, and from this Gloria became aware of her many flaws. Yes, she was a bit heavy than most girls, and yes she often went out on tangents when excited, but she wasn't aware her very poor existence would offend her fellow students enough to keep them away from her.

Gloria's home life was a bit better. She lived alone in a house most nights, but sometimes she would be welcoed home with wide smiles and sweet smelling candles and spicy, filling food. Latif and Lisa loved her dearly, and they cherished her even if she was ignored in school or bullied on the streets or self-doubting. And Gloria loved them back.

Gloria's powers manifested when she was younger, appearing as small influxes of power amplification every time she so much as gave her father a little tap. Flowers sprouted more often around their tiny apartment back then, bushes and vines and at times even sprouts of trees. She managed to spend half her life refraining from touching other mutants and magic users in an effort to control her powers. The first and last time she had touched her father was when she was pulling away from him after learning his secrets. Back then the word 'murderer' filled every air molecule, and plants spurred around them like an overgrown forest. And then she was gone, taking her power and her harsh words away from her quickly shattering family.

| Family |

Latif Azzi Torres

Latif Torres – Father

A spiritualist first and foremost, Latif Torres is the reason Gloria's home is full of stones and candles and incense sticks. Gloria fondly remembers who drawling voice and gentle guitar playing, and she had always thought of him as an extremely pacifistic and somber soul. Nothing about him screamed excited or sad, no, he was just Papa, just her harebrained, airy father. He enjoyed the natural parts of life, as evident by his full time gig in a greenhouse down town, and isn't afraid to let the world know. Of course, his interest in such things may be a direct side effect from his affiliation towards plants and nature in general. Flowers sprout from his finger tips on a single whim and vines ensnare those dangerous enough to become an enemy of the Syndicate.

Oh yes, the Syndicate. Latif acts as a sort of assassin for them. A dangerous man hidden behind a gentle face, that is his theme. Though his past with he criminal group is still not clear to Gloria, she is aware that he has taken lives and his powers have caused general mayhem in certain areas of the world. He usually works in tandem with his wife, Gloria. She is the brains, he is the brawns; it is a healthy, loving, murderous work relationships.

Lisa Torres

Lisa Torres – Mother

Lisa Torres is a spitfire of a woman. A fiery life that is prepared to spread her word no matter what. It clear where Gloria gained most of her physical and personal traits; some say she may be a spitting image of her mother at times! Working as a bank teller uptown, Lisa knew how to sway people with words, and her skills with money and knowledge have earned her quite the raise in recent years. Lisa was as loving as she was loud, and Gloria swore her mother always had her back, because that's how mothers were. Strong and caring and resoundingly kind. She couldn't be anything but--

In the Syndicate, however, she is ruthless and cold. A real killer, even if she rarely got her hands dirty. Being a mastermind behind most of Latif's jobs, Lisa is a mere human with the ability to sway beings with a few words. This charisma was self gained, as were the rest of her skills, and Lisa has worked hard to secure her position in the criminal gang. She does not plan to leave any time soon, not even for the sake of her beloved daughter.

| Abilities |

Gloria possess a magical ability akin to a mirror's image reflecting into another mirror. Say a candle is set in between two mirrors. The image of that alight wick is repeated a million times over, sent far into a tunnel where its light gives the illusion of being amplified. That is Gloria's ability, she amplifies the energies and powers surrounding other beings just by touching them. Her own aura is magical in a sense, sucking in other's to swirl it around and around infinitely until it returns to the original user much stronger. Of course, none of the energy voodoo magicks crap isn't visible to a normal human's eyes (even Gloria can't see much of it; she just gets the faint feeling of something twisting around her sometimes).

Her ability is quite useless on it's own, as one can assume. Without anyone to amplify she is just another human who, at times, gets seriously intense migraines if she doesn't keep her own energy in check. Her powers also don't work when she is asleep or unconscious, and she has been (or will be) practicing turning it on and off on a whim just in case someone not-so-good gets their hands on her.

| Strengths |

• Well educated and spoken
• Headstrong and at times stupidly proud
• Maternal in all the best ways

| Weaknesses |

• Abrasive and skeptical of new comers
• Stubborn and has trouble accepting change
• Opinionated to a dangerous degree

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| Theme Song |

The Spine Song – Cake Bake Betty
_{”with pins in your fingers
you held yourself up high
the picture peeled the person
they let themselves divide.”}

| Extra Information |

Anything else.

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[cerozer0]

"I hope you realize this is harder than it looks."

Thirty || Part-time Model || 5'11" || Energetic

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⊗ Obvious rookie
⊗ Truculent
⊗ Excellent chef
⊗ Heavily pierced
⊗ Endlessly fascinated
⊗ Hopelessly naive

[cerozer0]

For: Ѧasks

_Theme

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Name

Skav

Age

Nineteen

Gender

Androgynous

Affiliation

The Razors.

Years with Gang

Four

Appearance

When one thinks of Skav, they may think of their mask first. Huge, feathery, all seeing. The crow symbolizes mystery and life, a trickster blessed with discovering destiny and intelligence. The dark feathers that form from crown to neck don't appear to have a visible seam when connected to Skav's head, leaving most to assume that the mask either attaches at the shoulders OR Skav is actually a disgusting crow-human hybrid. He's fine with both assumptions. They all just add to the mystery that is Skav.

Body wise, they are an assortment of twists and angles. Sharp shoulders, normally hidden below a thick leather jacket or colorful and ratty sweaters, lead way down to angular arms and spidery, beautiful hands. His body is a plain of flatness, with taunt, tan skin that stretches down to from long and powerful legs. Skav is a study in survival; bore form a hard life and brought up by the strings of their boots, and such evidence of that is made real and possible when one glances upon his bare flesh. Their body is marred in old, white scars and new clusters of scabs and bruises, and every lanky or skinny corner is buried deep behind thick, long sleeved sweatshirts and sweaters and tattered jeans. They’re tall enough to appear intimidating despite their lanky shortcomings, standing at about 6’3” when not slouching or seated behind the wheel of his Qrow.

Skav moves with the motivation of a senior in high school. Apathy literally pours from every cell, shown through sluggish ambling an a prominent slouch that only ever goes away when Skav feels the need to get serious. Skav never runs anywhere unless necessary, finding it both a waste of effort and a sign of fear or weakness. Slow walking, with hands shoved deep into their jeans' pockets and head high to the sky, is how Skav usually shows up to gigs or fights, looking both relaxed and electric depending on the situation. One their knuckles are visible and their posture more serious, it is evident that Skav isn't one to shy away from a hit. Bruises line their fist, along with the old memories of broken bones and twisted tendons. A past leg injury also becomes clearer half way through a brawl, when Skav may slow to twist their hip a certain way in an effort to not show off a rather noticeable limp.

As for accessories, well, Skav is never seen without a cross dangling from his right wrist. The golden bracelet has since been worn to an off-silver, splotched black with grime or blood or other substances not worth mentioning, and it acts as a reminder to most that Skav is indeed a believer of Heaven (even if their actions say otherwise). Their nails are always painted a vibrant pink, and a scratchy '3' is tattooed into their forearm, along with a few Russian and Filipino sayings.

Personality

Secrets are made to be kept, and Skav has many, many unspoken thoughts. From the story of their family, to the origin of their name, every single little thing about Skav is hidden in someway, be it behind thick clothing or unseeable faces or glossy and fake words. Skav shoulders countless secrets, and is willing to keep others if offered because his shoulders could do with a bit more weight, but in the end these thoughts are jus made to make Skav feel unknowable and lonesome. Secrets are made to be kept, and Skav is prepared to keep himself hidden away and mysterious until he is put into the grave.

Despite being a little secretive rat for the most part, Skav has a tendency to be confrontational and rash, especially to those who threaten him or his gang. His loyalty is deeply rooted and even one sour note sang from the mouth of a stranger could lead to a verbal or physical brawl. Even if he is quenched with apathy for the night, too drunk or stoned to move, if something seems amiss or if someone thinks to lie to them Skav will be prepared to sober up and stand up for himself or whoever the opposite party is trying to rile up. His observant nature makes this scene play out a bit too much, perhaps, but Skav will assure everyone it's "for the good of the group". Liars are often the focal point of Skav's aggressiveness, because Skav can't stand those who cannot be one hundred percent truthful to them. Honesty may be their only policy, but is one of the few good traits Skav likes to show off in the presence of others.

Even if Skav is a bit sharp around the edges, there are some gentle sides to them. Religion may be the most notable one. Skav takes every Sunday morning off to go to weekly mass, perhaps in an attempt to pray away their sins or just to feel one step closer to something that is as unknowable as they feel. To them, God is as real as can be, and to them, God ignores their very existence but that's fine. Just praying to a benevolent force for an hour can quell the anxieties that may spur during the week. Other than that, Skav is usually drunk on Fridays and horribly sober on Saturdays. Their voice carries an apathetic tone most of the time, and they seem to have a bit of insomnia when everything is a bit too peaceful.

Strengths

☯ Observation

"The eyes of a hawk", or, in this case, the eyes of a crow. Skav is best known for his sleuthing and spying abilities, being able to seemingly perch in a secret spot of their own to keep a close eye on those worth watching. Skav is one who watches thinks before acting, finding it much safer to attack once they know their enemy's weak points as well as strengths.

☯ Dirty Fighting

Got a bottle to the back if the head? Some gravel in your eyes? A knee right to the balls? Then you're probably squaring up against Skav, the quickest, dirtiest fighter around (or so they boast). Using their keen eyes and general gifted sense of direction, Skav takes his time to check what possible environmental wounds he can inflict on his opponents. Of course, this means he spends a few extra moments plotting out his course of action, but it'll be worth it once he has a hand around the muzzle of a mask, ready to take down who ever dares to confront them.

☯ Transportation

Or, as others see it, "street racing". Skav adores his Camaro not because it's fucking gorgeous (though, that's half of it) but because it speeds up fast and hard when ever he needs it too. Skav's a fan of speed races of course, but when it gets time for serious driving he seems prepared. He knows his car AND the city like tha back of his hand, and is always willing to take transportation jobs if ever asked to.

☯ Luck

Skav, in general, is a rather lucky fellow. Now, gun shots don't just magically bounce around them like they've got some sort of luck-shield or something, but Skav seems to be blessed with the uncanny ability to find loose change in gutters and pretty necklaces left behind in parks.

Weaknesses

☠ Physical Endurance

Skav isn't the best at managing their energy nor the amounts of hits they take, and because of this they can often be put down quickly in a fist fight. Running or fighting or exerting energy for long periods of time puts him both in an awful mood and sometimes a hospital bed. This fact has also granted them a weak constitution, leaving them to get sicker often (especially after a night of boozing and partying).

☠ Superstitions/Horror

Okay, honesty Skav is a bit of a wuss when it comes to horror stories or ominous surroundings. They adore the downtown area's lights and music, but always seem to tense up when faced with a particularly narrow and dark place like an endless alleyway or an abandoned warehouse. They also seem to rely heavily on luck, and becase of this Skav takes his time in making sure he doesn't step on a crack, trip under a ladder, or pick up a face-down penny.

☠ Attitude

Skav has the tongue of a crusty old drunk and the temper of a three year old. He is quick to irritate and even quicker to set off on a tangent if forced, and Skav is able to go on and on in a verbal fight until they eventually cry themselves out (or, scream rather). If one would like to take on a headstrong and reckless Skav, then the best way to do so would be to get on their nerves.

☠ Bees/Hornets/Wasps/ECT.

Actually, Skav just has a fear of anything that has more legs than himself. Be it ants or spiders or beetles or centipedes, Skav hates them all the same and seems to react wildly if one decides to land on any available bare skin. This fear was spurred during a childhood accident where Skav accidentally stepped into a wasps nest. Thank God they weren't allergic, but in the end he was left with glaring emotional scars and a fear that just won't leave him be.

Likes

♱ Alcohol; both sweet and fruity and hard as shit. Skav will ingest any kind of colorful and bizarre tasting liquid as long as there is some kind of brewed substance within.
♱ Neon lights, neon signs, neon colors. They drive Skav's eyes crazy and for some reason they just can't look away. This infatuation with bright colors is notable in Skav's sense of fashion.
♱ The Qrow. Pronounced "crow" (Skav just likes to spell like a tool), Qrow is Skav's trusty 1969 Chevy Camaro and is souped up to holy hell. They treat it like a child, and will at times be found whispering to it when anxious.
♱ The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit, for obvious reasons.
♱ Reading, mostly pleasant YA novels and a few biographies. It's a secret past time that not even Skav's closest mates now about probably.

Dislikes

♱ Blaspheme, again, for obvious reason.
♱ Drugs; pills, and smoking. Skav prefers his habits to have the constancy of water and the possibility to bite him in the ass in the morning.
♱ Liars, cheaters, and people who chew with their mouth open. Skav likes to say that there is a special place in hell for all three of these offenders.
♱ Buzzing noises, because of his incurable fear of bees. Even the slightest feeling of something brushing over his arm or the threat of a fly coming too close can send him into a pulse-stopping panic attack. It's a nasty curse he carries, really.
♱ People prying, whether it be over their gender or their past. Most just end up with a mouth full of fist if they try too hard.

Relationships

Other

Skav's weapon of choice would be his stainless steel butterfly knife, which he always has on his person no matter what.

[cerozer0]

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Emotional Anorexia
Magic
Willow Tree March
Marigold
Lonely Boy

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☄ ☄ ☄ _{Mental Magic | Emotional Magic} ☄ ☄ ☄

▲ Protective

▲ Loyal

▲ Caring

◯ Lonesome

▼ Fragile

▼ Blunt

▼ Truculent

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[cerozer0]

Richard King

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● N A M E ●

Richard Shannon King
_{- Goes by King only! Any other nicknames are sorely unappreciated.}

● A G E ●

17

● G E N D E R ●

Male

● O C C U P A T I O N ●

High school student
_{- Being the son of a rather grandiose CEO has its perks, that being he really hasn't had much of a reason to go out and work. This, of course, has it's downsides however, and let's just say King isn't necessarily looking forward for a future without his mother's money on hand at all times.}

● L O O K S ●

If Verona has anything worth while, it's pretty boys, and Richard King may be the star-angel on top of the Christmas tree of douche-baggary that such a title entails. Blessed with the best face European ancestry can buy, King is a fellow with good looks and he is well aware of it. With dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a grin that can cut down even the thickest of egos, it's no wonder King has such a big head. General narcissism keeps him looking the right amount of tousled, as he stops in front of any mirror in his way just to make sure he's looking his tip-top best. From working out for quite a few hours every week and keeping a strictly vegetarian diet (inspired by his mother), King works hard to keep up appearances.

His skin is ultimately peachy, just a shade darker than the usual Scottish sheet-white, and in the summer he is known to over-apply sunscreen to keep from burning alive. He bears a rather round jawline, though it does not to detract from his symmetrical face and vivid expression. Standing at a sturdy 6'1", he often times towers over his peers in high school, much to his own glee. His long legs helps greatly as one of the two running backs for Lincoln Memorial High School's one( and only) football team. Those who know him from football or school also may notice his seemingly thick aura of confidence, or- in general terms, his blatant disregard for the looks and feelings of others. He walks with his head high even as others try to tear into, and it is almost as if he has heard half of whatever someone has to say to him before, in a much worse light.

In his kingdom, his life, his head, King is a reigning superstar. His confidence may not be easily broken, but if one is able to crack his facade they may notice King's flinches when it comes to physical contact, or his odd fashion choices involving sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts at all times of the year. Underneath his clothing lay a variety of scars and bruises, which can be easily written off as old battle scars from schoolyard shuffles but are in actuality remnants of fights with his controlling father. The most prominent scar lies on his right forearm, scaling around the crease of his elbow. This scar remains as raised flesh, ghastly white in color, and seems to be a constant anxiety trigger for King if others see it.

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● P E R S O N A L I T Y ●

Young boys are full of rage, and King is no exception. A rather high-strung boy with his only outlets in life being football and music, Richard King can be considered very out of control with his emotions. Most will blame hormones, other may write it up to be his spoiled upbringing. King just really considers himself to be "living up his youth" by acting out so often. Teenage angst, teenage rage, teenage lust, he lets these emotions go wild within him because he thinks it's the right thing to do! Of course, this leads to him being a rather cruel person, especially when it comes to people he deems weaker or less influential than him. He'll barely bat an eyelash when meeting new people, and seems more keen on being an asshole then actually forming meaningful relationships with someone he doesn't consider worthy.

Despite not seeking friendships from strangers, King finds some enjoyment in flirting. While is style of flirting may not be entirely enjoyable, in fact it may border on annoying to some people, he knows his boundaries enough to know not to put his hands on someone, and seems to be very keen on personal space in general. King is a carnivorous, asshole pre-Frat boy, but he still seems to hold some humanity, especially for younger children and animals. He seems to bond quicker with people who hold him in decently high esteem while also drawing him in with an odd formula of kindness. His closest friends are often some of the softest people, oddly enough, but this may be because of time instead of similar personalities.

King is quick to insult, and quicker to fight. If anyone dares to threaten him or his (few but close) friends King will not bee able to resist putting them in their place. Despite this, King is also quick to flinch during certain situations. He is a high-function anxious teen, meaning while he doesn't easily get anxiety attacks he does experience them, and they are often times extremely uncontrollable. All of his mental blocks come from his verbally and physically abusive father, who often times knocks King down so hard that he has trouble getting back up in the end. This abuse is the cause of King's incredibly thick, conceited skin.

● R O M A N T I C I N T E R E S T S ●

King, despite his rather heterosexual-feeling vibes, is actually a freewheeling bisexual with a distinct interest in beautiful people. He cares entirely for the face of his significant other, as seen through his countless attractive exes. Among a sea of gorgeous people lies his most famous relationship, that being with a one Aiden Philips. The two were seen as a power couple back in the day, but issues arose from their relationship and the two broke it off on nasty terms. Currently, King seems content with simply just hooking up at parties and weaving around any personal confessions from strangers.

● O R I G I N S T O R Y ●

Victoria Sawyer was a powerful woman in Seattle, acting as a CEO in a well-known technology company that is currently working on upgrading the soft wear to most smartphones. Despite working nearly every day, nine to six, Victoria somehow managed to find love. The love in question was a one Henry King, a rather affluent author who's stories often focus on the despairs of war and political disputes. The two hit it off, and after a few years of engagement married and moved off to Verona, Washington. Sure, the move made commuting to work so much harder for the poor woman, but that was just a minor set back to her career. The first major setback that occurred from this marriage, however, came in the form of another life.

Richard King was born one bright August day to a work-sick mother and n absent father. While Victoria seemed to despise her son for getting her off work for a few months, the moment he opened his mouth to cry she fell in love. Her usual cold demeanor faded into a soft motherly glow, and King spent his entire childhood spoiled by his mother and otherwise ignored by his office-dwelling father. Of course, once King was old enough to fend for himself at home, Victoria gave birth to another child. King's sister, Marie, was a quiet ball of sunshine. Victoria and King watched over her like hawks. Henry was, once again, just another quiet soul in the massive house.

Eventually, Victoria returned full time to work, leaving a young nine-year-old King alone to watch after his sister. King often times spent his days with the neighbors, befriending the young Alice who often played put in the garden with his sister while also finding comfort in the homeyness their household offered.

The first real, real encounter he had with his father was when Marie accidentally knocked a stack of papers off his desk one winter night. The first thing he remembers is Henry raising his fist to his six-year-old sister. The next waas searing pain, a sharp slap to the face, and a haggard, smoker's voice screaming, "YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF HER-- KEEP HER UNDER CONTROL, DICK."

The abuse escalated through the years as King slowly began to grow rebellious against his father. He was ridiculed for smoking, drinking, loving both genders, playing his guitar too loud, not playing football hard enough. Henry King ruthlessly berated his son, willing him down into nothing but an uncontrollable bully with extreme anxiety and trust issues. His name became a trigger to him, his house was no safe place. The only few things keeping him within those mansion walls were Marie, his distant mother, and their pet bulldog, Knight.

When the sickness hit Verona, King was throwing beer bottles at The Gallery's walls in frustration. The anger was bore form a fresh hand print on his face, a slap to the face from listening to his favorite music just a tad bit too loud for his father's tastes. What hit him first was a headache, a soft tugging on his conscious that willed him to sit down, don't move, don't breathe. It hurt, knocked him stunned for a moment, and then the shivers came. Inexplicable chills that drove him from the walls of the abandoned building back towards Riveredge. Once his feet hit his front lawn, however, dizziness took over, and King would later find out he was discovered passed out on their front steps, seemingly comatose.

And when he awoke, nothing was the same.

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● S U P E R P O W E R ●

Empathy

● P O W E R C L A S S I F I C A T I O N ●

Mastermind

● A B I L I T I E S ●

King's empathy, at first, is merely just the ability to view another person's emotions as an aura surrounding them. Emotions appear as various different colors to him, forming almost a kaleidoscope affect with his mind if he happens to be near a crowd of people or interacting with someone who is considerably emotional. Being able to sense emotions may seem useless in a fight, but in reality it makes King a great (and slightly unstable) negotiator, who is able to sense someone's inner turmoil and use it against them if at all necessary. As his powers grow, he soon gains the ability to have a slightly alter emotions of others. This ability will not entirely change their mood if the person is able to fend off the foreign emotions, so it is not complete persuasion, instead it can be considered a form of negotiation.

● W E A K N E S S E S ●

- King is unable to control the input or output of the emotions around him.
- No possible way to attack or defend self with this ability.
- Experiences intense migraines after attempting to alter someone's emotions.
- Crowds are his downfall; too many emotions can seriously affect his mental health.
- His mood may be altered by the emotuions of others, and thus he may be acting on feelings that are not entirely his own.

[cerozer0]

Melanie Fa

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● N A M E ●

Melanie Fa Bain
_{- Goes by Mel or Fa usually. No preference.}

● A G E ●

23

● G E N D E R ●

Female

● O C C U P A T I O N ●

Cashier and tarot reader at Pagan Dreams, and she also helps out at her family's funeral home, Bain Funeral Home, and the connected cemetery.
_{- The family business just runs in Melanie's blood, so she happily helps out with funeral services and grave maintenance. When it comes to Pagan Dreams, however, she is merely drawn to the cute little store by aesthetic alone, and her hobby of collecting oddities has grown graciously since her employment there.}

● L O O K S ●

To the eyes of many, Melanie Fa isn't much of a looker. With a round face, soft features, wide-spread eyes, and glossy, self-cut hair, she is quite an oddity in of herself. Make up is an unknown concept to Melanie, but due to her spoiling parents she is often presented with various colorful and glittery kits that she will at times paint herself in a rather "imaginative" kind of way. Thanks to her mother, Melanie has a much higher pitched, daintier voice, and her Chinese features stand out prominently due to her mixed heritage. Her eyes, though wide set, are almond shaped and dark in color, and her lips are doll-like and often split into a wide, curious smile.

Much like the strange things she hunts for and collects, Melanie holds herself with an aura of mystery and elusiveness. She walks turned in on herself, as if protecting her chest from some unknown attack, and often holds an expression of intrigue even during the most drab of conversations. Being literally bone-thin, Melanie often looks as though her clothes are eating her, and perhaps that is how she likes it! Her fashion sense is rather interesting, consisting of outfits she has torn apart and sewn back together. In all honestly, she is best described as "trashy" in terms of what she wears, but it seems Melanie considers herself to be quite fashion forward!

Despite being a college drop out and a recluse, Melanie happily speaks her mind to stranger and those in town who actually know her (whether they like her or don't). Posture wise she is a bit awkward, walking around with her head down and searching rather than leaving it high to keep her shoulders from turning in. Her steps are dainty and silent, a side effect from working in a graveyard-- and this is because her father always told her, "Walk like you wish the dead to keep sleeping". Besides all that, she has no noticeable tattoos save for a colorless UFO pinned directly to her collarbone, and her arms are covered in cuts and bruises from her treks into the woods.

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● P E R S O N A L I T Y ●

Melanie Fa is just your normal, everyday, bone-collecting, crystal cleaning, trash-wearing girl! Well, actually, most to none of those traits can be considered normal, but perhaps that is just to her liking. A woman with a curiosity that goes deeper than most gold mines, Melanie can often be seen as the towns nosy-kook, asking various questions to neighbors or customers when she is in the mood to talk. Her fashion sense and odd hobbies often keep people from approaching, but it doesn't seem to bother her too much. Her mother jokingly calls her a recluse, but she might not be too far off. Melanie just likes the quiet, and the silence offered in her room or at Pagan Dreams keeps her content in various ways, and with the way people avoid her she just ends up in the quiet more often.

She doesn't feel emotions too strongly. If anything, her curiosity towards the occult and unknown is what keeps her going throughout the day. Take away her hobby and all that is left is a quiet, mousy girl with a habit of staring at one thing for too long. She's intelligent but a bad student, and was unable to keep up with her college work which lead to her eventual drop out when she turned twenty-one. This bump in the road actually hit her harder than she might let on, and there are days when some may notice a forlorn and guilty look in Melanie's eye. Despite this, Melanie attempts to keep a happy-go-lucky attitude about life and wanders through Verona always looking for something new to discover. Where most might hate their home town, Melanie adores the rustic little Verona, and she lets her pride out in her journal entries and curious rambles.

Despite her light disposition, Melanie easily succumbs to lethargy when she is unable to do the things she loves, and she is prone to bouts of serious depression during the autumn and winter months. Being cooped up in one place for too long without an occult book to read or an animal bone to research leaves her feeling rather antsy, and she is much too meek to defend herself from Verona's thick-skinned bullies. Even with her bright curiosity, Melanie can get lost in her own head, and most may notice her day dreaming throughout the day. She is easily distracted and easily pushed down, but still somehow manages to pull herself back up to find more dead things and pretty rocks in the woods. Nothing can kill her vibe for too long. She is nothing else if not resilient.

● R O M A N T I C I N T E R E S T S ●

When it comes to sex, Melanie is rather uninterested. Identifying as asexual, she would much rather form meaningful friendships than sexual relations. Then again, due to Melanie's odd habits and hobbies, she is barely able to make any friends worth keeping. If she were ever to get romantically involved with anyone, they would have to be completely fine with her distaste for contact and her interests. Anyone who can accept her may have a shot at winning her attention.

● O R I G I N S T O R Y ●

Born to George and Fa Lui Bain, Melanie Fa was raised up in Verona, Washington as the possible heir to her father's funeral home. She was raised well, spoiled stupid, and basically grew into her odd ways by the time she was seven thanks to her parents' own weird interests in the dead and occult. The first oddity she found for herself was what her father called an "Indian Arrowhead", or a stone that looked like one at least. She was endlessly fascinated by the little object, and kept it hidden away in a small box below her bed. Later through the years, that box grew full of strange artifacts she considered "odd"-- clean bones of some poor dead bird or deer, muddy crystals found in the river near the family's house, antique candy wrappers she found while looking through main street shops, her own fallen-out baby teeth; anything and everything others may consider weird.

Her hobbies only grew as she got older, and her family's wish for her to take over the funeral home were shot dead when Melanie actually got into a college of her choice. She was hoping to get out of Verona for a bit to expand her collection and perhaps get a degree in archaeology. The two years she spent out of Washington, however, were some of the hardest in her life. Without the comfort of her family and due to her weird interests she barely accumulated a social standing and was endlessly stressed by the amount of school work she had no interest in completing. If anything came out of her college years, it would be the gathering of much more expensive artifacts. Skulls and geodes and charms and old, old history tomes; everything she found out of Verona was much bigger and much more real.

Sadly, skulls and geodes couldn't keep her in school, and Melanie returned to Verona at the age of twenty-one with no degree and no inspiration to go back out into the world. Her parents happily let her back into their home, and she was set back on the path to inherit the funeral home. Being much more calm in her familiar home surroundings, Melanie sought out a job at the local wiccan shop and continues investigating the woods surrounding the town in search of new oddities. The next two years of her life were spent working as a clerk and tarot card reader at Pagan Dreams, watching the stars for any crashing UFOs, and searching the undergrowth for any rotting corpses.

Everything changed that one fateful week, when the odd sickness struck Verona's residents. Melanie herself was caught with the illness and suffered intense migraines and fatigue for two days straight. When she finally came to after a long, long sleep, she felt fine. Oddly enough, she felt completely okay. Nothing was amiss... For the day at least, When night came, and Melanie was getting ready to sleep, a sudden misty feeling over took her mind, and a voice that was her own but not under her control whispered, "In the rain and mud tomorrow soon, the Madame will arrive to collect her boon."

Obviously confused and smitten by the strange prophecy she uttered, Melanie quickly wrote down what she remembered and read it over fifty times before drifting into a light sleep. The next morning, rain splattered against her window, and downstairs she could hear the deranged whines of an older woman. As Melanie creaked down the stairs, she saw a an unfamiliar face. The woman in question was requesting something her husband was buried with, some that was beneficial to her. A boon, if you will.

In the rain and mud tomorrow soon.

The Madam will arrive to collect her boon.

Melanie never doubted a coincidence, never ever. But she would need more research before anything massive could be proven... And what was she trying to prove, you may ask? Well, is it possible to become a prophet over night, of course!

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● S U P E R P O W E R ●

Precognitive Speech

● P O W E R C L A S S I F I C A T I O N ●

Mystic

● A B I L I T I E S ●

Melanie is able to recite prophecies of the future involuntarily. Normally she falls into a trance-like state, and while she often remembers what she says after the fact she has no rhyme or reason to how they initially start coming to her. The prophecies come out in riddles most of the time, leaving Melanie and those around her up to figuring out what the mysterious future event actually means. Those are able to tell when Melanie is about to start reciting her prophecies when her face takes on a completely emotionless mask. Eventually, Melanie will be able to control her trances and speak of future events on her own wishes.

● W E A K N E S S E S ●

- Melanie's power is speech-based. Gag her mouth and she will have no other way to use her power.
- Al of her tellings are unexpected and she is unaware of them before the trance takes over.
- They come out in the form of riddles, and take some time to decipher.
- Melanie's memory of her own prophecy may fade over time if she does not immediately write down what she has heard.

[nightmare eyes]

Deimos

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^{Devourer of knowledge, creature of the wind and the stars.}

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ＮＡＭＥ

Deimos of Tijan

ＡＧＥ

25

ＧＥＮＤＥＲ

Nonbinary (they/them)

ＰＬＡＣＥ ＯＦ ＯＲＩＧＩＮ

Tijan - A small island located close to The Ichiren Dynasty, Tijan is mainly dominated by the large temple that covers nearly every surface of the rocky land. The people who live here are most likely monks or scholars, living out their lives as peacefully as they can muster. Tijan holds a massive library full of found texts and scrolls and essays written by the scholars who make their homes here and many empty rooms which the monks use to house sickly or poor people if they are in need.

ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ

Outfit

Baby-faced, short, and lean, Deimos could very easily pass for child upon first glance. Cursed with an extremely youthful expression and limbs that rarely act according to their whim, Deimos is as awkward physically as they are verbally. Standing a mere 5'4" and weighing just over one hundred and ten pounds, they are far from a threatening silhouette and seem to be fully aware of that. Deimos is rather attractive, however, even if they are not entirely aware of it. Vanity is not a virtue after all, and as such Deimos often does not spend too much time worrying or fussing over their appearance.

Tan skin contrasts vividly with Deimos' thick blonde hair which, despite constant badgering from the monks back home, they now refuse to shave. Their eyebrows are thick and dark, often turning upwards with anxiety, and their eyes give off a friendly light when they happen to be in a good mood. Pale green eyes star up at the sky and the stars when and glitter with curiosity when they think one one could possibly be looking. Deimos was happily blessed with an angular and androgynous face, and thanks to this they were able to go about day to day without having to worry about being misgendered. With a sharp, curved nose, full lips, and cheeks full of dark freckles, Deimos holds a relative attractiveness that definitely is not enough to turn heads.

Dressed in the usual modest outfit most monks seem to wear, Deimos is not exactly the most fashion forward person on the ship. They do not entirely understand the thralls of dressing fancily and find that suits and silks are rather lackluster, especially if they get in the way of working. Beneath their tattered outfits Deimos has fields of stars and monk symbols tattooed across their body, and sometimes, on particularly hot days, they will remove their sleeves and these odd markings will be visible to the world.

ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ

Bumbling is the best way to describe someone like Deimos of Tijan. They were born into their awkwardness, raised by monks who shared their quiet and soft demeanor, and thrust into a world that was suddenly so much bigger than they expected, so of course they had to be a bit bumbling. Deimos always seemed to cling to the library when they were younger, craving the knowledge that the words held rather then companionship like many other monk children. Thanks to this, they have plenty of book smarts but fall flat when it comes to social situations. They often get anxiety from being in crowds or in tense situations, and have been known to hyperventilate when too panicked.

Despite their social anxiety, though, Deimos is a calm and gentle soul. They have taken a vow of pacifism and will never start a fight if they can help it. Of course, they will not hesitate to protect others or themself when presented with a dangerous scene, but in they end Deimos is strongly against causing harm to any living thing. To the people they have grown to known Deimos is an angel, treating them with the utmost respect and serenity they too would love to receive. Deimos believes strongly in karma, and as such acts according to what they wish to have in return. Because of this ideology, whenever Deimos makes a friend they work their hardest to make sure that person is as happy and content as can be.

Deimos is, of course, a book worm. They do not border on the term 'nerd', oh no, they are the term. Never has their been a better word to describe someone as bookish and meek as Deimos. They rely heavily on the well of knowledge that obtained from countless hours of studying and learning from the best scholars back home. This heavy leaning on their own intelligence, however, makes them a bit prickly when someone attempts to question Deimos' reasoning. Even the slightest insult to the cartographer's intelligence can put them in a bad mood, and while they are rarely angry Deimos does get depression or downtrodden rather easily.

In the end, Deimos is a soft and gentle soul that possesses an enormous amount of awkwardness. Where they fail in social situations they make up for in general intelligence and a thirst for adventure. Their curiosity rivals that of a hunting cat, and even if they are sure to tip toe around stressful issues once something of note pops up Deimos is always ready to learn more about it. Deimos rarely acts out with their emotions, and always seems to plan their steps a head of time before leaping into action. When not furiously documenting where they have been and where they will probably go, Deimos can be found reading wherever there is light or meditating and praying to their God. They work hard to maintain relationships and to prove their worth to their fellow crew mates, and this journey will be full of firsts for them.

ＳＫＩＬＬＳＥＴ

● Cartography and Star Mapping - Living with a monastery can get a bit boring sometimes, so Deimos decided to fill up their time by learning how to draw maps from the countless examples in the Tijan library. They are mostly self taught but have a fantastic sense of direction and enough knowledge on the subject to start from scratch. As for star mapping-- Deimos has always had an interest in constellation and has journals full of shapes and figures from the night sky. Both skills make them an extraordinary navigator.

● Herbal Knowledge - Thanks to growing up with a garden full of different leaves and flowers and monks who know how to use them, Deimos has picked up the ability to tell certain herbal plants apart from others. With this ability, they know how to use plants to make certain teas and pastes that could have powerful benefits. They can also tell when certain plants may be poisonous or dangerous to consume and actually have a few pouches of herbs on them for future use.

● Self-defense - Though well known to be a pacifist, Deimos was trained with their fellow monks in martial arts as a form of self defense and discipline. Their style derives from the act of using one's opponent's weight and power against them, and as such Deimos relies on speed and mental finesse rather then brute strength or direct hits.

ＷＥＡＫＮＥＳＳ

● Strength - As their usual stature may dictate, Deimos isn't exactly the most strong person on the boat. They have spent so much time building up their mental prowess they they have completely lost the ability to lift anything heavier than a half-full keg of beer or a small pile of books and scrolls. Of course, their monk discipline made them at least a bit quicker than most, but in the end Deimos is completely unfit to be manning any of the heavy lifting around the ship.

● Sailing - Though Deimos had studied the mechanisms of every ship possible in the library, when it comes to actually being out on the open air they known nothing of what to do with the ship. Directions aside, they really do not know the magic in how to get the boat to turn nor how to unfurl and wrap up the sails if asked, and thanks to this they often shy away from doing boat-duties in favor of just charting out their path.

ＨＩＳＴＯＲＹ

Twenty-four years ago, a child with dark skin and blonde hair was left at the doorstep of the Tijan Monastery-- a child that was born merely one year before. There were no parents accompanying this child, no pets or servants, and the only thing around the small crying bundle was a chain and a golden ring. This child was abandoned on a chilly Tijan night with nothing but the cooing songs of the gentle monks to sooth it and the blessing of an unknown God above to protect it.

Deimos' first memory was this: a dimly lit room, a blurred and concerned face, and a song. A song sung in a language they would not yet understand. A lullaby to calm the soul. Below them, in this memory, was an arm, holding them upright, and beside them was a chest keeping them warm. They had no clue who they were at this time, nor that they were abandoned and found and loved again instantly. This was their first memory and their first unknowable truth.

Deimos was brought into the monastery that night and instantly placed with a crowd of other children. If the tikes noticed the new comer's different hair and skin they said nothing about it, and Deimos was raised in a loving and practical environment as any other child. They were mentored by an older monk named Wangwei and the two grew close as Deimos slowly grew into their own as a scholarly type. Wangwei taught Deimos everything they know about their religion and their way of life, and was well known around to monastery for holding a rich love for philosophy and apothecary, that of which they also passed down onto Deimos. They learned to appreciate life and act according to their own wishes thanks to their mentor.

The happy days with Wangwei could not last forever, though. He was an older monk by the time Deimos was placed under his care, and when Deimos was about sixteen their mentor fell ill. Months passed with Wangwei bedridden, and Deimos, as loyal as ever, sat by their bedside and listened to the last teachings Wangwei had to offer. The night of his death was a mournful occasion for the whole monastery, but his life was celebrated for a week straight with wine and music afterwards. Deimos took part in the festivities only to keep their spirits up, but after the week of celebration ended they locked themselves away in the library to truly mourn their dead teacher.

Deimos studied every book in the library after that, sitting in the farthest corner for days on end just pouring each paragraph into their mind. They took a new found interest in plants and herbs thanks to Wangwei's influence and, slowly and carefully, began growing detached from the monks' hermit-like ways. They began to lose sleep and found their eyes drawn up to the stars mapped above the temple. They drew constellations from memory and mapped out the night sky one hundred different ways just to kill time. Their love for graphs and maps grew with each new scroll they discovered in the library, and soon they had hobbies that were more scholarly than monk-like. Training and meditation continued to play a big part in Deimos' life, but in the end they had begun to crave something outside the usual monotony they experienced.

And that 'something outside' came as a whisper that resonated through the temple halls. A monk, back from a pilgrimage, had heard tell of a grand voyage being planned and knew they were in need of a crew. Deimos devoured this gossip and instantly turned to the head council of the temple, pleading with them to allow them to use the boat as a means to obtain a spiritual journey. After days of pressing and pleading the monks gave in, and Deimos was suddenly thrust into a world that they did not entirely understand with a box full of scrolls and books and a dream to learn more than they possibly could know.

Deimos had nothing to offer but their brilliant mind and a curiosity that was deeper than most may realize. When they approached the person in charge of hiring for The North Wind's journey, Deimos laid their skills bare on the table. Hand drawn maps and star charts splayed across the table, and Deimos stared on with an unnatural flame of determination that seemed to cry 'look at me, look at me and see what I can do'. After a private interview and perhaps a whole hour of rambling map explanation, Deimos was hired as part of the crew of The North Wind, and they were finally getting the adventure they so craved.

ＡＭＢＩＴＩＯＮＳ

Growing up in a monastery can only keep someone entertained for so long. Deimos, after fulfilling his duties as a youth for the monks and teachers of Tijan, sought to experience the world to its fullest. They asked if they could go out to see the world, and when that didn't work they turned and began calling their excursion on the airship a 'pilgrimage'. Once free of the monastery rules, Deimos was free to find all of the knowledge they fervently sought. Their ambitions lay in their endless curiosity and their thirst for adventure, and The North Wind seemed to be the key to their wishes.

ＩＮＶＥＮＴＯＲＹ

● Scrolls x20 — Packed away in their large backpack, Deimos carries around countless scrolls full of old maps and star charts. Half of them are blank, however, ready to be use.

● Calligraphy Set — Ink (in various colors!) and at least a dozen paintbrushes used for map-making and, sometimes, calligraphy.

● Books x10 — Novels and textbooks and essays taken from the monastery. Deimos reads them on their down time or before bed.

● Prayer Beads — Normally tied around Deimos' left hand, these beads are a pale blue in color and give off a faint glow despite not holding any magical properties. They calm Deimos in the midst of anxiety and act as a focus for their nightly prayers.

● Silver Ring — A silver band which has just recently been able to fit around Deimos' finger. The inside of the ring is engraved with the name C. D'Aboville.

● Herbs — Plucked straight from the gardens of Tijan, Deimos has five pouches full of herbs that can be used for spicy teas, healing pastes, and other useful remedies.

[nightmare eyes]

Noah Auguste

^{Male | 21 | Homosexual}

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Noah Auguste is more of a ghost than a person. He is a man pulled directly from a chiaroscuro sketch, a creature most may not notice at first glance. He's the living definition of a wallflower by appearance alone thanks to his emotionless and homely face. Noah is not conventionally attractive, rather his face is quite forgettable and seems to be steeped in the over saturated filter of an old photograph. The only real color to his appearance comes from his hooded but bright blue eyes, which seem ever brighter compared to his mousy hair and pale, pale skin. While he may possess beautiful features, like his aforementioned eyes and his plush lips, Noah seems to take it upon himself to appear as unassuming as possible.

He is stocky with muscles built from working with his father's construction firm, though it fails to make up where he stands height wise. Standing at a mere 5'4", his height adds once more to his ability to blend in to any real life scenario, and he drops down to a sad 5'2" thanks to his perpetual slouch. Despite these short comings, Noah walks with a sense of self-preservation. He does not lack confidence (hell, maybe you can't lack what you never had), but instead of holding his head high he walks quickly and quietly as if to protect himself from an invisible force walking behind him. His attire matches his protective motions, often hiding him away in plain sight with dark shirts, dark jeans, and unassuming though accentuating outfits.

When he is not moving from place to place like most humans do he is entirely still, observing those around him. His stare is often cold and distant, and while it may appear that Noah is glaring at someone, he is, in reality, day dreaming. People watching is also a hobby of his, though this is merely out of curiosity towards others.

Apathy draws Noah's usual expressions into that of a statue. He rarely smiles, rarely frowns, and on top of it all seems to find those who do emote to be annoying. His bored expressions may read as aloof, and that would be because they are, but there are times when he may tilt his head quizzically or huff in exasperation. Those few signs of life are rare but enough to remind others that Noah is, in fact, a human being.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Noah is probably the least outwardly emotional person you may ever meet. Drenched in a thick coating of self-made apathy, he walks through his everyday life looking and reacting to everything like a photograph. He is not so much a person rather than the implication of a person-- he walks and talks and breathes, but he never shows any sign that he feels anything from such humane interactions. Despite his apparent lack of emotion, Noah is far from silent. He is relatively blunt in conversations, and if ever caught in the middle of a debate he is not afraid to speak his mind. To those he tolerates he is protective and watchful, though does not outwardly voice his concerns for them.

In his own mind, Noah is a volatile storm. He often switches from long, depression-based lack of motivation and days of subdued mania where he merely throws himself into work to keep himself busy. His general aloofness is not exactly a cover for his apparent mental issues, rather it is a symptom of his attempt to cover up whatever is going on within him. Of course, this habit makes Noah a rather secretive person, and though he may not mean any harm by his self destructive attitude, those few and far between friends he has since lost were perhaps most hurt by his wish to remain silent about himself.

When involved with other people for a project or in the theater company itself, Noah does his share and nothing more. His ideology is mostly reliant on the thought that "he can carry his own weight", and once he has he leaves the rest of the work to those within the group. Noah isn't lazy, per say, rather he lacks motivation to do anything other than what is assigned to him. When working in the theater, however, Noah seems oddly more attuned with himself and the objects and people around him. While acting he is ridiculously responsive, and though he has trouble improvising or keeping rhythm it is obvious that he enjoys himself just the same.

Noah is, in all honesty, everything and nothing to a fault. He is honest to a fault. He keeps promises to a fault. He is quiet and morbid and protective and volatile, all to a fault. He feels absolutely nothing, and yet still has the need to drown out that white noise with loud parties and a ridiculous amount of alcohol. The dark feelings that Noah is hiding will perhaps never be revealed, as he works hard to keep himself distanced from people who could threaten to peel down his mental walls, but those who do try to reach out may just find a scared, introspective boy just ready to lose it.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦 & 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

✓ Alcohol and cigarettes
✓ Small animals and children
✓ Cold, quiet weather
✓ Acting; or rather being someone other than himself

✗ Hard drugs
✗ His father
✗ People entering his personal space
✗ People who show intense emotions

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔

Life in the slums of the East Coast wasn't exactly all sunshine and beach times. Noah was born to squat in a three roomed apartment on the Jersey Shore with his twin sister, Beatrice, and his abusive father James Auguste. Noah never knew his mother, or, rather, he had never heard mention of her in the house. As Bea and Noah grew older they just assumed she up and left after they were born, and honestly neither of them could blame her. No sane woman would have been able to deal with the manic asshole that their father was. Noah's early life consisted of getting locked in cupboards, running down to the corner store to pick up his dad's cigars, and playing pretend with his sister who recieved the same abuse and then some.

They lived in that seaside town for ten long years, dealing with their father and the other drunks that cruised through the salty-smelling streets when it was off seasons. A few months after their tenth birthdays, however, James came home with a letter in ahnd and announced to his children that they would be moving out of state for work. Bea and Noah were, unexpectedly, excited for this change of pace. James seemed less agitated at home with the upcoming move (when questioned why by Noah, he merely responded by saying "I'm getting more pay, kid") thus the twins were left to their own devices as they packed up their meagar life in New Jersey and set off to a brand new house set up in Greenville, Ohio.

Noah's middle school and high school life was spent battling with depressive thoughts and keeping his sister above water as she fell into the same habits as him. His father set him off to work for his construction company as soon as he was fit enough to start lifting rubble and work machinery, and that with the added stress of school work and keeping his twin sane muddled down into him until Noah was left only with a will to work and nothing more. He lost any interest in himself and his hobbies, lost his own thoughts in favor of keeping track of his sister's, and gained a new found disease known as 'apathy'.

The only thing that kept Noah somewhat intriugued was Greenville High's theater and English prorgrams. He found himself working tirelessly after school one sophmore dya in order to perfect how to use the old, half-broken light board and memorize all of the actor's lines on stage in order to keep his queues on time. He read Shakespearian monolouges in and after class, and found a new love for musicals and plays with each ticket he bought to the town's local programs. Of course, his father wasn't quite a big fan of his son's "odd, stupid, girly" interests, and Bea could care less about him as the end of their high school lives slowly stretched forwrad to swallow them whole.

Eventually Noah became fed up with his home life. Bea was all prepared to shell off for college, all ready to leave her brother behind after their four long years of keeping her away from all the destructive thoughts she craved, and Noah felt betrayed by her actions to leave him behind. In retaliation he applied to a college in Indiana and eventually found himself on a one way trip to St. James, Indiana. He left behind his drunk and miserable father, his thankless sister, his broken friendships and his broken house. He left behind what ever traces remained of the old Noah and found a new shell to inhibit in his home away from home.

And eventually, after a three months of living on campus and exploring the small town's delights, he stumbled upon the Abrcadabra theater comapny, and the rest was history.

𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔

● Acting: A talent spurred from countless English class readings and late night Shakespearean monologues, Noah has a keen ability of simply capturing the essence of whatever role is assigned to him. Of course, some parts are easier than others (he generally favors the pessimistic male leads) but given enough time to prepare Noah will do reasonably well as whomever he is instructed to be.

● Technical Theater: Before Noah was known in the company as an actor he worked backstage as a lighting technician. He both designed some of the light designs for some of the old productions as well as worked to adjust and move the tech during show time. He still goes behind the scenes nowadays when not acting up a storm on stage.

● Calm: In terms of personality Noah isn't..... Much, to say the least. He lacks the proper motivation to actively emote and seems fine with just sitting in a corner and staring at a wall rather than socializing. On the high chance that the company is running through some anxiety, however, Noah is the rock that can help keep people together. His calm, emotionless words may be blunt at times but are trained enough to quell whatever panic is getting the person in question in a jam.

𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

● Dancing: Actually, anything involving rhythm (he has trouble learning songs during the first few weeks of rehearsals too). Noah may have decent timing in scenes, but when it comes to dancing to a beat he has two left feet.

● Emoting: Noah in general has issues revealing what he's truly feeling. When not playing the part of another person on stage he is horribly apathetic, almost to the point of being robotic. Because of his apathy he has trouble sharing his own thoughts, ideas, and feelings.

● Heights: Perhaps the worst phobia to have for a tech-crew member, Noah has an abnormal fear of being high up. While he never outwardly says anything to anyone, his demeanor drastically changes when he is in a high spot. Despite his fright, Noah frequents roofs to smoke, and when asked why he merely responds with, "I'm feeling."

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Tech Crew – Noah works with the lighting and sound crew to ensure that the more extravagant productions are nicely lit and sounding as pitch perfect as possible. Though he hasn't put much time into lights due to his new found interest in actually BEING in the shoes, Noah seems to have a soft spot in his heart for light design and sound effects.

Actor – Though the revelation for this role was recent, Noah has taken to his new title quite nicely. Having always been a fan of monologues and being in the mindset of someone other than himself, he easily slipped into the mindset of an actor. Still, he has a lot to learn about being on stage.

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖.
▔▔▔▔

● He works two jobs besides the company and college; one as a waiter in a local diner and the other as a valet at a high class restaurant an party venue. Both gigs are part time and help keep his tongue wet and his tuition paid for

● His favorite play is actually a lesser known short piece called "Waiting for Death", though the role he would most like to play would have to be Tom Wingfield from The Glass Menagerie.

[cerozer0]

Ashley Hann

^{|| Ash || 20 || Sophmore ||
|| Bisexual || Female ||
|| Bioengineer Major || Communcations Minor ||}

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𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽

Ash is not particularly eye-catching which, in reality, is an annoyance to her. Bleached blonde hair settles around her pretty but vague-looking face, hair dyed enough to give it the texture of sandpaper and the eternal smell of chemicals and sunlight. Her skin is soft though usually covered up with natural-looking makeup, which works to hide her countless stress-made blemishes and a single pocked scar that sits on the bridge of her nose. The most striking thing about Ashely may indeed be her eyes, which are a light gray and always accented with false eyelashes and a gentle shimmering eyeshadow.

She stands at a meager 5'3" and is not inclined to tell anyone of her weight, though many can come to the conclusion that she may be a little too thin for her height. If she is self-conscious of that, however, it is impossible to tell, as she always layers on clothes in a style deemed fashionable by most Californians these days. Ashley is incredibly caught up on the latest fashion trends and it shows pleasantly through her simple but attractive outfits. Besides a mere sense of style, Ash also has an array of trendy piercings and small, hidden tattoos that appear to be written in Korean.

Without the makeup and without the always blown-out hair and well-suited outfits and jubilant, airy personality, Ash looks like an exhausted and almost sickly pre-teen. She spends near hours fixing herself up before leaving for the day, but those who catch her before she's had her coffee or a shower may be shocked at how disheveled she looks at home.

𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 & 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽

✓ Parties, to an obsessive degree
✓ Alcohol and psychedelics, weed and acid in particular
✓ Xanax. It keeps her bubbly!
✓ Fashion magazines, fashion shows, fahsion in general
✓ Coffee coffee coffee tea coffee...
✓ Loud music, synthwave and anything bassy in particular
✓ Reality TV, it's mindless fun!
✗ Penn-Fucking-Brooke University
✗ Party-poopers, get loose or get out!
✗ School work, to an almost grade-suffering degree at times
✗ Mississippi in general
✗ Rainy days, they ruin her hair!
✗ Eating in front of other people
✗ Silence

𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌 & 𝗁𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽

✂ Smoking, either cigarettes or fancy, most likely stolen Juuls
✂ Chewing on her hair or nails
✂ Jiggling her thigh, especially if she's stressed or needing to pop a pill
✒ Petty theft
✒ Partying, or at the very least getting high and dancing alone in her dorm to sad, bassy, or jazzy music
✒ Flower pressing

𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 & 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽

☁ Thunderstorms
☁ Dark, cramped places
☁ Silence
☏ She apparently is on her parents' last nerve and if she flunks out of college they will be sending her off to schooling in Korea
☏ She is addicted to Xanax
☏ She stuffs her bra

𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽
_{| Jubilant | Lazy | Selfish | Free-Spirited | Dizty | Self-Loathing | Intelligent | Unmotivated | Nihilistic |}

Ashley is a party girl, through and through. Living in San Fransico and experiencing the overwhelming push to fit in with her girl squad back home inspired Ash to adopt a very jubilant, eccentric, and ditzy persona. She thrives off of the nightlife and has the most energy when she is out surrounded by other bodies in a huge, sweating mass of life, love, and bad decisions. She is cheery to a fault at night, even in times of dire stress, she can be found smiling and laughing as if it were just another moment in her life. If she is not partying at night, she can be found popping Xanax in her room and jittering about, either doing homework at an uncomfortably fast rate or dancing to strange, thumping music. There is never silence with Ashley around, she will always fill with with conversation, laughter, or music in some way.

To others, Ashley is undeniably sweet but she has a habit of coming off as a bit naive, or ditzy, or just plain unaware. Some of her comments can even come across as cruel if taken the wrong way, which they most often are.
This usually occurs during the day, however, where her energy is low and she can often be at her most lazy and daydreamy. Watching her walk around campus during the day is akin to watching a turtle cross a freeway– undeniably impressive, but somehow discomforting. Ashley during the day is almost like a completely different person, losing her usual jubilance in order to adopt a sort of selfish sleepiness that stays with her until the sun goes back down.

Despite her lack of motivation during the day, Ash still possesses a decent amount of intelligence, which help her out well during exam season. Though her homework is often unfinished, she manages to study her concepts enough to remember them, and she does take a great interest in her major and minor. However, she has a habit of being rather self-destructive and holds a firm belief that life is really meaningless past all of the immediate pleasures she can gain through pills, alcohol, and companionship. She feeds her vices endlessly in order to avoid a real fear that her life may lead up to being nothing after all.

𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✽

Ashley Dae Kim is the first and only daughter born to Jung and Soon. Though she was born in Ulsan, Korea, the family moved out to San Francisco after some issues with Ash's grandparents. She grew up surrounded by varying cultures and languages, and she toddled through her first twelve years of life with excellent grades, many friends, and incredibly pleased parents. Once she entered middle school, however, Ashley found that her friends and their interests were shifting towards boys, fashion, and the ideological obsessions of the trends happening above them. And Ashely, ever the follower, trailed after them to avoid getting lost in a sea of mindless children.

She went from a straight A student to a C-, wavering between passing and failing most classes that weren't related to the sciences. Her interests toggled daily; sometimes she was focused on teen movies and TV drama,s other time shes was lost int he pages of a fashion magazine, studying the way the women on the glossy pages posed and walked in heels taller than her front steps. Maybe she thought her parents wouldn't notice, or they wouldn't care. Maybe there was a quiet hope in her, saying that this was just a phase and her parents would be proud of her once again. Maybe she was using "maybe" too often in her journal.

Eventually, when her grades were a threat to her time in middle school and early on in high school, the fights began. Screaming matches between Ashley and her folks became a daily norm for the Han's, and even passing each other in the halls was enough to start another argument. Ash began spending less time at home, relying on clubs and parties to keep her mind off of her parents' points. She drank and danced and learned to love the way neon lights bounced off sleek walls and glittering shoes and latex mini skirts. Popularity belonged to her in high school, but she was close to flunking out due to her plummeting grades. Eventually, her parents came to her with a final a decision to make: fix your grades and go to college, or flunk out and be sent off to live with her grandparents in Korea.

And, finally, Ashley could not argue any longer.

She fixed her grades, managed to lift her horrendous GPA to a 2.7, and sent out countless college applications to surrounding schools. Not one college in California accepted her, but the single school her parents had picked out, some hockey little place in Mississippi, seemed more than ready to have her. And so Ashley went off, depressed to leave her partying life behind... That is until she discovered the wonderful allure of the Omega Psi Phi sorority.

[cerozer0]

Michael Lynch

^{|| Mike || 21 || Junior ||
|| Closeted Homosexual || Male ||
|| History Major || Linguistics Minor ||}

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𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗

Michael Lynch is attractive and he seems to know it. Being of mixed ethnicities, he possesses the best of at least two worlds, and he certainly knows how to rock it to his advantage. His skin is brown and clear of any distinct blemishes. His eyes are darker in tone and seem to match his wiry hair in both color and intensity. With a large nose and plush, normally cooly unexpressed lips, Mike possesses the suaveness most models seem to get away with. Everything about his face, in general, is very stern and sculpted, and his habit to smile when excited or nervous seems to accentuate his statuesque beauty.

His sense of fashion, however, seems to be what really brings everything up top together. He is a frequent wearer of countless leather, jean, and bomber jackers, and seems to have a fascination with patches, pins, and alterations. He dresses like any stereotypical bad boy. Most of his outfits, however, are obtained through thrifting, as he doesn't really have a lot of money to spend on more expensive and extravagant goods from shopping malls. He has no tattoos, a single septum piercing, and not other important body mods.

𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 & 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗

✓ Leather jackets
✓ Ancient European and African history
✓ Dead languages. He has a soft spot for Old English
✓ Whiskey
✓ Red meat, mostly very tough steaks
✓ Clothing alterations
✓ Reading, especially historical novels
✗ Sports, though he'll never let on
✗ Sleeping in late
✗ Emotional responses to things he deems stupid
✗ Republicans
✗ Classical music
✗ Messiness, or anything out of order
✗ The dark

𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌 & 𝗁𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗

✂ Pen tapping on absolutely everything.
✂ Staring
✂ Bending things, especially when anxious
✒ Reading
✒ Journaling; he has a hefty, leather bound journal on him usually
✒ Making mixed tapes and playlists

𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 & 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗

☁ The dark
☁ Heights
☁ Birds
☏ He is secretly gay
☏ He had sexual relations with a professor in his Sophmore year
☏ All of his leather jackets are faux

𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗
_{| Suave | Anxious | Volatile | Well-read | Cyincal | Superficial | Thoughtful | Over-thinking | Self-loathing |}

To some, masks are a way of playing pretend, of being someone they know they aren't. To Michael, masks are what helps him glide so smoothly through his turbulent life. Though his true colors are more in line with that of an anxiety-ridden nerd bent on just surviving social interactions one drink at a time, Mike paints over his truths with vibrant shades of charisma and mystery. His induction into Phi Kappa Delta may have helped him build up this sort of playful, bad boy persona of his, as Mike seems to feed off of the personality and actions of others. He easily adopted the easy-going, party-loving lifestyle of some of his other brothers, and managed to meld it into something that felt more comfortable for him to slip in to. When putting up this farce, Mike is suave and collected, acting as if everything around him is just falling into place. He pretends to take pleasure in talking up ladies, fist bumping bros, and overall just tries his best to appear as cool as can be.

In reality, Mike is wracked with feelings of anxiety and worry. He steps through most situations with light feet and even lighter words. His mother used to call him "thoughtful", but his father decidedly believed that his son was just too much of a pansy to handle any sort of conflict. Mike falters a lot in life, but he has managed to work himself into a convincing persona of badassery as a way to cope. Because of this, though, Mike has also adopted a feeling of being underwhelming, and he hates himself for lying to so many people. At the same time, Mike can't really let himself come out due to his over-thinking of other people's intentions towards him. He is cynical to a fault, though he never lets on, and can't help but believe that most people have it out for him.

When given a chance to open up to someone, though, Michael can eventually relax and let people really get to know him. He gets overly excited when people speak to him about medieval history, old languages, or just the differences in the world as a whole. He loves picking people's brains, both to give him a sense that they are not out to get him and to let him fully understand whoever he is talking with. Mike is sweet to those are sweet back, and takes pride in culminating friends even if he can be a bit shy at first, and staying in a frat house has really started to work him out of his meticulously hidden shell.

𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔⊗

Michael James Lynch was born and raised in Pearl, Mississippi to two very different parents. His mother, Kiara, was a woman of African American descent who wore her heart on her sleeve and loved others more than she loved herself. His father, Anthony, was a cold Caucasian man who seemed content with never showing a lick of emotion to anyone but his wife. Together, they constructed a confusing house and lifestyle, and Michael swam between his two parents with varying degrees of social confusion. Being poor, he spent most of his time playing outside when he was young, and his public school teachings were lackluster at best until he reached high school. He found that spending time with his father was harder than it should be, as his dad seemed o take no interest in Mike's life. Due to this, Mike grew to be interested in rather strange things instead of inheriting his father's focus on sports and alcohol, which seemed to annoy the old man.

Mike grew up taking what he could get, loving his mother, and studying things most children bared no interest in. By the time he was in middle school he harbored none of the same interests his other boyfriends seemed to like and was instead confused as to why he found them so much more interesting than girls. Mike didn't put together his sexuality until high school, but even then he refused to be outted due to his father abhorrent stance on same-sex couples.

He coasted through middle school and high school with outstanding grades in history, failed to make his father proud through any means when he attempted sports, and clung to his mother's kindness even as she began to grow more inward due to her husband's passive-aggressive rage. His anxiety began to increase the more he grew, and he began to grow wary of his friends as he assumed they ha dbegun to suspect his indifference to females as him being gay. Mike turned inward as well, and he lost many good friends and he threw himself into his studies and books. Home life was crappy, school life was boring, and all Mike wanted was some reprieve from his life in suffocating Pearl.

It came in the form of college one day. He couldn't apply to many due to his lack of financial aid and money, but those he did apply too were in state and ready to accept a well-versed history major. He eventually settled on a choice that was just far enough to get him out of his cold house and just close enough to keep him within reach of his mother. Pennbrooke was a fairytale to him, an entirely new world to change himself in, and Mike dove in ready to present himself as the person he really thought he wanted to be.

^{FC: Reece King
Color: #c6583a
Images: X X X}

[cerozer0]

Richard King