Rockette

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.022: within & without.

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Interaction(s): katja. @Zoldyck - harper. @Qia - gil. @Roman}

Previously: TBD

"Yeah, well, that's their problem."

Amma lances back swiftly, a flicked wrist of dismissal punctuation what little space remained between her and Katja. She was the only one to approach Amma this way, the entitlement to her breadth of existence that most [really, everyone] allowed her. Gave her. Sometimes, Amma wonders if they even realize they stare, that she can feel their eyes and toiling apprehensions whenever she draws near. As if a specter or harbinger of ill premonition. If Amma didn't know better [and who was to say it wasn't true] she would say they were simply afraid.

It's fascinating. She often ponders just how much closer she could get, how far she could bend and break; how far she could take them if they only allowed it to be so. Loneliness did not bedevil her life or shade it in monochromatic lenses, and years prior bartered companionship in the currency of heated flesh and baited breaths. Lovers came and went, for never would she bequeath them with any other term. And friends?

Hardly.
And yet-

Wrapped in her massive arms sired spears of warmth through her spine, spindling down her arms as she huffed and uttered: "Down girl." Her voice lilted in a whisper before the waters caressed her feet once more.

"If I did, I wouldn't ever tell you, Kat-ja." Her name snapped from her pout, teeth edged into something of a smile.

Katja was imposing and intimidating in every facet of a woman, impossible strength laced through every muscle, every detail pronounced and exaggerated - intense, she thinks. In those nuances, they are alike, creatures of dramatic purpose and poise. She contemplates if maybe this is why Katja sought her out as one of the first in their team to talk to her, to invade her life [because personal space meant nothing to her, clearly] and cast the literal sunshine of her demeanor against her harsh edges.

That sphere of influence of which consumed her hummed suddenly with an appetence that was eternal through her very blood, bones aching and power thrumming 'neath flesh as her gaze turns oblique through her swept lashes. So, it took only one for the others to work up the nerve to approach her, she recalls maybe once or twice they've said her name; included her, tried to bring her into that fold. She traded small musings here and there, enough to announce her name and part of her previous education, parts of her power that even she sometimes grew fearful of.

She'd never tell them though. Not even Katja.
She won't even admit it to herself.

Camaraderie was a perspiring beer can and the light of her eyes fixated on the brunette, her name...
"Harper," she labels, a manipulated wind stirring through her hair where she lifts her hands, rakes nails back through the locks and brings up her glasses to get a better look at her. Straight-laced, polished, rigid almost. A woman that carries herself in refined discipline, it's in her very posture, Amma notes and reaches with a ring-bedecked hand, her nails tapping against the aluminum and grazing over her kind gesture.

She hums a: "Thank you." Her nails pricking against the tab, not opening it quite yet. She doesn't drink cheap pilsner by any means, but she wouldn't know that, now would she. Amma cants her head to glance over her shoulder, yonder to where the others stay, and thinks she maybe spies the neck of what could only be a wine bottle.

Huh, so Rory [she remembers, for often she caught his compelling stare] was listening.

It's the collective commotion next that Amma finds distracting; interesting, humorous. Her lips lift, a grin that Katja once told her was far more endearing carving through her cheeks as Lorcán - yes, that's right - falls. What a fascinating display! On his back, arms splayed, disheveled. Amma almost laughs, a manic sputter that plants itself in her throat and chest.

She wonders what he would look like on his knees instead. With those molten eyes, he could certainly be her undoing.

Amma knows nothing of the mentioned dance, and she can hardly inquire further when another joins their trio.

"Well, you certainly have plenty to spare, don't you. Gil." Her aforementioned laughter spilling across her tongue, a soft chortle that caressed her lips around his name. Katja made plenty sure that she knew them, drilling such into her memory despite her initial protests. Amma didn't care, didn't want to know. Names were titles of affection, names held power. Sway. Manipulation. It was what marked creatures of life, and even those of death. Amma angles herself carefully, offering her profile as she balances her nails on her beverage, the brightness of her stare sweeping down his figure before climbing up in slow increments, every detail committed.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.007: within & without.

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Interaction(s): . . .}

Previously: TBD

The first time Amma Cahors came to P.R.C.U was a day with no celebration: it was little ceremony that plucked her from the oceanic solitary of her dorm wherein a pamphlet and a syllabus that conformed her credentials from the Institute was dropped upon her lap. Forsaken was the latex and shawl of black gossamer that clung to every cleft and cinched her bodice with laces and silver, in trade she donned what some uttered as Gulo yellow and arched the prick of her nails on the embossed wolverine poised in a shield. She knew not what the creature represented at the time, her world suspended on the mutterings of H.E.L.P officials eager to fly her yonder the seas to the island that awaited her unannounced arrival.

To this day, she doesn't know why. She has then stopped asking, accepting the fate of infamy that cloaked her presence and bedecked her moniker with a spade.

The second time is more or less, the same.

Amma was not privy to the relaxation hours the year prior that saw friends reuniting after the summer apart, her months of solace had been little but a self imposed confinement for there had been many restrictions. Returning home [where that was, she knew not] was not an option. The spires of Rouen were foreign to her and unwelcoming at best. She had found small comforts in the village but whispers of her renown traveled fast and far, the shadows of her former association cantering after her lissom figure wherever she went.

For Amma, it was just fine.

The warmth of the beach permeated through her bones, the sand shifting beneath the delicate path she walked down the shore line with gestures clasped at the small of her back. Waves lapped up to her ankles, playful in intent and pulling a shudder from her pursed lips. Amma would not utter it aloud, but the sea was a beckoning facet that called to her like none other. Perhaps it was from the years spent in the pyramid structures of the Alexandria Foundation in the middle of the ocean, but there was little comparison to the simple freedom of trudging through sand and surf. She was done in a sheer pullover of black that descended just at mid-thigh, the inked profiles of moths, skulls, and other creatures seeming to ripple beneath the fabric, the delicate straps of her ebony two piece accented with beads of white. She allowed her hair down for the venture with the longest layers curled at the base of her spine and framed her critical gaze and lashes that fluttered behind thick sunglasses that often slid down the bridge of her nose.

It wasn't her first perusal down the shore, but this had been the first time others had been... so close. Granted, most were her sudden teammates, a word she was not entirely accustomed to [she doesn't know if she ever will be] and others that were fresh faces that simply knew to give her a wide berth. Her rejoining smile was all white bone and gleaming lips, the slightest cant of her head encouraging at best if not entirely suspect. Amma said little to any new arrival, for what words she could spare would be waspish replies and biting wit.

She just doesn't care.

As the waves pull after her footfalls, she pauses, gazing out over the horizon as the breeze tugs through her tresses and out to the darkened waters. A void beckons yonder, somewhere in the gloom of sapphire and ebony darkness, where rock and sediment quake, where sometimes Amma wonders if she willed it just so, what would happen were she to rent asunder the depths below. She inhales, a sharp pull of breath over her pouted lips, and steps further into the slightly warmed waters. The waves lap playfully on her calves and higher still as she settles her palms over the swaying surface, caressing the waves as they ebb and flow beneath her gestures.

She hears it then, the epitaph she shed in the darkness of one night when she realized that she wasn't going anywhere.

Tiamat.

It is a caress through her mind; a stuttered whisper that coils betwixt her ears with every beat of her heart. Again, and again, and again. Tiamat pings through her lobe as the sea courses through her fingers and chills her skin and it's only then she thinks maybe it wasn't just her mind uttering her former calling. Amma stills, fingers arching as glimmers of silver and red quake from nail to palm and through a subtle shift, she cuts her gaze through gilded lashes and pans her look over her shoulder and glares to the shoreline. And though nothing is there, Amma knows it wasn't just happenstance for the name to summon through her consciousness.

She exhales.
It's gone now.

Somewhere in the distance of sand and surf she hears the call of familiar voices and laughter. It is a world so far, so separated, and sometimes so unusual to the years she spent fending for herself. From bloodied noses and lips, to scarlet kisses and hissing cries that scoured her heart in her waking world. Amma carefully unlaces her sheer overlay then, letting the fabric pool at her elbows as she wades farther out before bending at her waist to pluck a shell curiously prodding against her ankle. She smooths her gesture over the pearlescent underbelly before her nails scrape against the outer layer -- it only takes a second for the trinket to suddenly crumble away into nothing.

Amma just simply smiles.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

ａｍｍａ . ｃａｈｏｒｓ
ａｍｍａ . ｃａｈｏｒｓ

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{^{"You're going to have a bad time."}}

▅▅▅▅▅

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Amma Fien Cahors. _________________________________________________________ December 2nd, 2005. | 23 | French/Caucasian. _________________________________________________________ Single | Female | Pansexual _________________________________________________________ Rouen | France | Europe _________________________________________________________ Gulo | Team 21 - Blackjack C H A R A C T E R S T A T S C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________ ◼ B U I L D || Slim ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 167 cm ◼ W E I G H T || 55 kg ◼ S C A R S || peculiar clusters located on her thighs, fingers, and lower back. ◼ T A T T O O S || expansive murals of snakes and birds; mammal skulls, shadowed out profiles, and miscellaneous practice flashes from various artists. most noticeable is the scrawl of unique penmanship on her throat; spelling out a name. ◼ P I E R C I N G S || lobes marked by dainty studs, and her septum pierced with a loop of gold. ◼ O T H E R || n/a.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ The powerful thrive in a world of the damned, souls begone and forlorn of struggles and differences. Amma is the advocate for the depraved and the unhinged; she is rage, she is pain, she is the unexpected and the always desired. A glutton of the insatiable and the harbinger of the unknown and misunderstood. Sensuous in her debut of pallid skin and striking eyes with a temperament that begets cruel assumptions from the herald of power quaking through her mortal countenance. Lips pouted on feral smiles of gleaming bone and manic laughter as she stands before the maker -- as she was held before her mother with fissures of silver and red tearing through bones and flesh. Weeping eyes and screams of wood splintering through the sphere of chaos that rent asunder gothic spires and forced eyes heavenward in prayer. Charlotte Cahors adored her daughter, once, as an only child born out of wedlock, a gift from the man that came and went on whispered promises of matrimony. These would never come to pass, the man a mystery of shadow in memoriam and spoken of fondly if not wistfully from the loss of meant-to-bes. Amma worshipped her, for she was god in the eyes of her youth. Even when those eyes turned brighter, and brighter, and brighter, when serpentines coils of something broke across cherub bearings and dainty hands. Charlotte Cahors only held onto her all the more. And if she held on a little too tightly and a little too harshly, Amma never said. She was afraid, alone, as memory and broadcasts of persecution and ruin sired the desperations to hide what Amma was undoubtedly turning into - what she was becoming. The world is never fair for the different, for the misunderstood. For simply being not-as-we-should. Complexity wrought hell through a mind caged, a resentment that festered for simply being what life had christened as otherworldly. A multifaceted creature that grew under critical scrutiny from forces unseen. The world was enthralled to wherever she stood, manipulated by a flicker of a lash, to the shuddering breath, to the clenched fist that scored crescent smiles into her palms. Amma struggled within and without, until the Alexandria Foundation came to collect on the tears of her mother -- "Forgive me, dove. They said you had to go; they said they could help you!" There was fear laden there, a sorrowful circumstance that saw creator turned against the beloved creation. Amma felt the sting of betrayal with stoic malice as the doors to the Institute yielded to the force that was she. She was only ten years old. A year ago, through a long negotiation trial courtesy of H.E.L.P, Amma was penned for a transfer from the Institute to P.R.C.U. Utterances and speculation gather that she just wasn't fitting in; a waspish woman, vain incarnate and struck with hubris. Amma heralded to the concept of the individual rather than the place as a whole -- it was just fine. Better. Because who else could she trust, for the world was meant for such selfish creatures.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Destructive Force Manipulation __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Exoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Fundamental __POWER SCALE || 7 __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || Γ She would dub it pure chaos, the manifestation of what the world needed, for why else would it allowed to be so. Amma can shape and manipulate HZE ions, gather them to her person liken to a selfish lover, and in result induce destructive forces: erasing the existence of anything, controlling how something might be destroyed, nullify certain materials and objects - perfect nihilism, she would say. This is achieved sometimes by accelerating HZEs surrounding a target, causing molecules to be ripped apart to the degree of an explosion. Other instances produce a slow decay, manipulating HZE ions to be corrosive, almost plague like wherein a black cloud-like plume descends onto her target. Organic materials are sometimes subject to her whims by the HZEs present within their own biology, sometimes being erased entirely into what she affectionately dubs the Void. Through the grace of touch, HZEs gather, flaring bright and even reflecting into the depths of her eyes, humming with an esoteric tune whilst her fingers pluck and arch and dig and dig. Illuminating cracks through the gloom that tear through the opposition until nothing remains. L I M I T A T I O N S || Some instances depend on an emotional state, as many powers would be. Amma's often peculiar detachment from sentiment influences how easily it might be to persuade HZEs to her or the ones existing within another. Other circumstances would spell a loss of control, for if she does not concentrate long, sometimes HZEs scatter and cause disfiguring to other objects in her range. Such range can be limited, due to the difficulty Amma has in directing and maniupulating HZEs if such is not at least harnessed through the prism of influence of at least thirty-three feet. Smaller objects or people are far easier to destroy, whilst larger targets or opponents might be able to disrupt the HZEs long enough to flee. Creatures mortal and non with regenerative capabilities are the antithesis to her power. W E A K N E S S E S || Any tool or weapon adapted to deliver Electron Beam Irradiation, Amma cannot destory, no matter how hard she tries. If she were to be immobilized by her hands being bound, and eyes blinded, she would be rendered defenseless, as she is only able to manipulate forces within direct contact or by direct ocular focus. Thirty-three feet is the current sphere of which Amma can reach, even one inch beyond, she cannot manipulate no matter how much she expands her reserves. The reasons for such are unknown, but correct training could expand her reach. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ Why was Amma transferred to P.R.C.U - what occurred to influence H.E.L.P to intervene with negotiation and plying tactics that spanned for nearly half a year. Was such voluntary or involuntary. What was the deciding factor in the Institute that convinced them to let her go. Redemption is an absolute force stricken upon the vain and wicked. For a woman suddenly told she has to work within a team, to shed the alias she has carried for so long, what will it take to convince Amma to fend for her peers and work alongside them without biting -- unless they ask, of course. Where is Charlotte Cahors? Once the Institute doors closed, her mother disappeared, much like her father. Who is the man that remains a shadow in her dreams and where did the woman who once was her everything vanish to. Is it revenge that compels Amma's search, to return the betrayal that no child should endure.

S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Bilingual || French is her first language, English her second. She can understand bits and pieces of German, but is not fluent by any means. ◼ Contortionist || Amma is freakishly flexible. ◼ Clandestine || Want something done without anyone knowing, she's your girl. Have secrets to utter? She'll take them to the grave; but maybe she'll use them to her advantage first. ◼ Perception || Perhaps she sees and notices a little more than you want her to; too bad. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Singing || A siren call beckons. Mostly wistful and forlorn lullabies once sung to her by her mother. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L _________________________________________________________ A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Fidget Rings || Amma's inked and scarred fingers are adorned with multiple rings of varying shades from gold, bronze, and silver. Each with a peculiar attachment. Often she twists and twirls them through out the day. ◼ Uniform || She'll wear the bloody thing, sure, it's different. Doesn't mean she has to like it. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Clove Smokes & Lighter || She finds them therapeutic. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Essentials || What is necessary for a student's day to day. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ SATURN was her old classification. There was speculation that Amma was intended once for the Foundation Force. ◼ Her codename was once Tiamat. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?}

She scoffs, a muttering of breath that whistles through her teeth as her lashes flutter high in an eye-roll.
"You're joking with me, right? I'd tell them all to run for the hills."

_{W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?}

There's a grin marked across her cheeks, all obtuse and bright and feral.
"Ask the people who put me here."

_{I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?}

Amma just laughs.

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

ａｍｍａ . ｃａｈｏｒｓ
ａｍｍａ . ｃａｈｏｒｓ

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{^{"You're going to have a bad time."}}

▅▅▅▅▅

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Amma Fien Cahors. _________________________________________________________ December 2nd, 2005. | 23 | French/Caucasian. _________________________________________________________ Single | Female | Pansexual _________________________________________________________ Rouen | France | Europe _________________________________________________________ Gulo | Team 21 - Blackjack C H A R A C T E R S T A T S C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________ ◼ B U I L D || Slim ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 167 cm ◼ W E I G H T || 55 kg ◼ S C A R S || peculiar clusters located on her thighs, fingers, and lower back. ◼ T A T T O O S || expansive murals of snakes and birds; mammal skulls, shadowed out profiles, and miscellaneous practice flashes from various artists. most noticeable is the scrawl of unique penmanship on her throat; spelling out a name. ◼ P I E R C I N G S || lobes marked by dainty studs, and her septum pierced with a loop of gold. ◼ O T H E R || n/a.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ The powerful thrive in a world of the damned, souls begone and forlorn of struggles and differences. Amma is the advocate for the depraved and the unhinged; she is rage, she is pain, she is the unexpected and the always desired. A glutton of the insatiable and the harbinger of the unknown and misunderstood. Sensuous in her debut of pallid skin and striking eyes with a temperament that begets cruel assumptions from the herald of power quaking through her mortal countenance. Lips pouted on feral smiles of gleaming bone and manic laughter as she stands before the maker -- as she was held before her mother with fissures of silver and red tearing through bones and flesh. Weeping eyes and screams of wood splintering through the sphere of chaos that rent asunder gothic spires and forced eyes heavenward in prayer. Charlotte Cahors adored her daughter, once, as an only child born out of wedlock, a gift from the man that came and went on whispered promises of matrimony. These would never come to pass, the man a mystery of shadow in memoriam and spoken of fondly if not wistfully from the loss of meant-to-bes. Amma worshipped her, for she was god in the eyes of her youth. Even when those eyes turned brighter, and brighter, and brighter, when serpentines coils of something broke across cherub bearings and dainty hands. Charlotte Cahors only held onto her all the more. And if she held on a little too tightly and a little too harshly, Amma never said. She was afraid, alone, as memory and broadcasts of persecution and ruin sired the desperations to hide what Amma was undoubtedly turning into - what she was becoming. The world is never fair for the different, for the misunderstood. For simply being not-as-we-should. Complexity wrought hell through a mind caged, a resentment that festered for simply being what life had christened as otherworldly. A multifaceted creature that grew under critical scrutiny from forces unseen. The world was enthralled to wherever she stood, manipulated by a flicker of a lash, to the shuddering breath, to the clenched fist that scored crescent smiles into her palms. Amma struggled within and without, until the Alexandria Foundation came to collect on the tears of her mother -- "Forgive me, dove. They said you had to go; they said they could help you!" There was fear laden there, a sorrowful circumstance that saw creator turned against the beloved creation. Amma felt the sting of betrayal with stoic malice as the doors to the Institute yielded to the force that was she. She was only ten years old. A year ago, through a long negotiation trial courtesy of H.E.L.P, Amma was penned for a transfer from the Institute to P.R.C.U. Utterances and speculation gather that she just wasn't fitting in; a waspish woman, vain incarnate and struck with hubris. Amma heralded to the concept of the individual rather than the place as a whole -- it was just fine. Better. Because who else could she trust, for the world was meant for such selfish creatures.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Destructive Force Manipulation __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Exoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Fundamental __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD She would dub it pure chaos, the manifestation of what the world needed, for why else would it allowed to be so. Amma can shape and manipulate HZE ions, gather them to her person liken to a selfish lover, and in result induce destructive forces: erasing the existence of anything, controlling how something might be destroyed, nullify certain materials and objects - perfect nihilism, she would say. This is achieved sometimes by accelerating HZEs surrounding a target, causing molecules to be ripped apart to the degree of an explosion. Other instances produce a slow decay, manipulating HZE ions to be corrosive, almost plague like wherein a black cloud-like plume descends onto her target. Organic materials are sometimes subject to her whims by the HZEs present within their own biology, sometimes being erased entirely into what she affectionately dubs the Void. Through the grace of touch, HZEs gather, flaring bright and even reflecting into the depths of her eyes, humming with an esoteric tune whilst her fingers pluck and arch and dig and dig. Illuminating cracks through the gloom that tear through the opposition until nothing remains. L I M I T A T I O N S || Some instances depend on an emotional state, as many powers would be. Amma's often peculiar detachment from sentiment influences how easily it might be to persuade HZEs to her or the ones existing within another. Other circumstances would spell a loss of control, for if she does not concentrate long, sometimes HZEs scatter and cause disfiguring to other objects in her range. Such range can be limited, due to the difficulty Amma has in directing and maniupulating HZEs if such is not at least harnessed through the prism of influence of at least thirty-three feet. Smaller objects or people are far easier to destroy, whilst larger targets or opponents might be able to disrupt the HZEs long enough to flee. Creatures mortal and non with regenerative capabilities are the antithesis to her power. W E A K N E S S E S || Any tool or weapon adapted to deliver Electron Beam Irradiation, Amma cannot destory, no matter how hard she tries. If she were to be immobilized by her hands being bound, and eyes blinded, she would be rendered defenseless, as she is only able to manipulate forces within direct contact or by direct ocular focus. Thirty-three feet is the current sphere of which Amma can reach, even one inch beyond, she cannot manipulate no matter how much she expands her reserves. The reasons for such are unknown, but correct training could expand her reach. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ Why was Amma transferred to P.R.C.U - what occurred to influence H.E.L.P to intervene with negotiation and plying tactics that spanned for nearly half a year. Was such voluntary or involuntary. What was the deciding factor in the Institute that convinced them to let her go. Redemption is an absolute force stricken upon the vain and wicked. For a woman suddenly told she has to work within a team, to shed the alias she has carried for so long, what will it take to convince Amma to fend for her peers and work alongside them without biting -- unless they ask, of course. Where is Charlotte Cahors? Once the Institute doors closed, her mother disappeared, much like her father. Who is the man that remains a shadow in her dreams and where did the woman who once was her everything vanish to. Is it revenge that compels Amma's search, to return the betrayal that no child should endure.

S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Bilingual || French is her first language, English her second. She can understand bits and pieces of German, but is not fluent by any means. ◼ Contortionist || Amma is freakishly flexible. ◼ Clandestine || Want something done without anyone knowing, she's your girl. Have secrets to utter? She'll take them to the grave; but maybe she'll use them to her advantage first. ◼ Perception || Perhaps she sees and notices a little more than you want her to; too bad. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Singing || A siren call beckons. Mostly wistful and forlorn lullabies once sung to her by her mother. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L _________________________________________________________ A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Fidget Rings || Amma's inked and scarred fingers are adorned with multiple rings of varying shades from gold, bronze, and silver. Each with a peculiar attachment. Often she twists and twirls them through out the day. ◼ Uniform || She'll wear the bloody thing, sure, it's different. Doesn't mean she has to like it. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Clove Smokes & Lighter || She finds them therapeutic. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Essentials || What is necessary for a student's day to day. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ SATURN was her old classification. There was speculation that Amma was intended once for the Foundation Force. ◼ Her codename was once Tiamat. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?}

She scoffs, a muttering of breath that whistles through her teeth as her lashes flutter high in an eye-roll.
"You're joking with me, right? I'd tell them all to run for the hills."

_{W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?}

There's a grin marked across her cheeks, all obtuse and bright and feral.
"Ask the people who put me here."

_{I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?}

Amma just laughs.

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - The 'Hype' Thread

You really made me work for it too.

@Lord Wraith

Only took a couple years or so, but who is keeping count.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - The 'Hype' Thread

'kay. I'll bite.

What Are You Listening To?

&& a brief check.

<sup>updated -- 03.21.24

new plot concept - purgatory.

kind reminder these are concepts that require a bit more developing.</sup>

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

@Sapphic Pigeon - aw. you're most welcome!

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

@Sapphic Pigeon

old font wasn't working for me.