[hider=Cordelia Lynn Holmes] [b]Name:[/b] Cordelia Lynn Holmes [b]Nickname/Alias/Etc:[/b] Lynn. Cord. Delly, only by a select few. You will get your ass torn into six separate parts if you are not one of those select few. [b]Gender:[/b] Female. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]Height:[/b] 5’5 [b]Weight:[/b] 110 lbs [b]Home District:[/b] The Dead End. [b][u]Appearance[/u][/b] [b]Hair Color:[/b] Dark brown-“raven colored”. [b]Eye Color:[/b] Blue. A lighter shade. [b]Ethnicity:[/b] Caucasian. Unknown descent. [b]Physical Appearance:[/b] Lynn’s a little ball of hellfire and it radiates from her every pore. A small, thin girl, her personality seems almost too big for her frame, and it hovers around her like an aura. Standing near her, you can almost telepathically hear her saying “Fuck you. If Lynn died, and you tore open her body to examine her, it would be written across her heart: “GO FUCK YOURSELF” Lynn’s never really been one to give two fucks about her appearance. Any fucks she does have are being diverted towards more important issues. She’s not homely, but she’s not what most would consider beautiful either. Lynn’s face is round and on the pale side, her lips grey and usually pretty chapped. She has a small, slightly crooked nose as a result of an old break and a stud through the right side. She also has a single stud on her right ear-no hanging earrings, Lynn saw a girl get her earlobe ripped off like that. And by “saw” I mean “had a real close view”. Lynn’s body is not quite disturbingly thin, but it’s clear she’s missed a few meals she probably couldn’t afford to. Her ribs poke at her chest and there’s not much body fat on her frame. Lynn’s cheeks are slightly, just barely, hollow, and she often wears clothes that are a little warmer than is strictly necessary. Her teeth are slightly misaligned, but not anything too terrible, and she has a tongue piercing. Lynn’s face is normally locked into a permanent scowl, one that makes Marines get uneasy and cops call for backup. Her posture is ramrod straight, eyes staring defiantly out at whatever dumb soon-to-be-dickless motherfucker decided to look back. She moves with a purpose and is the sort who will bump into you rather than move out of the way. She will proceed to bark at you: “Watch it!” with any given expletive attached. Lynn’s voice is somehow tainted by her personality. She’s never been one to smoke a whole lot, so it can’t be the occasional cigarette that makes her voice a little raspy. It’s something about the cold cynicism that is normally pouring off her tongue that makes her voice harsher and sharper than it truly is. Lynn does not pull any verbal punches and her tone of voice is nearly always a brutal, curt bark, if not a fully aggressive snarl. She has never once been mistaken for dainty. Her body is also covered with a fair amount of tattoos. On her right shoulder, stretching down her arm sleeve-style (I’m probably fucking up all these terms I know nothing about tattoos) is a rendering of the angel of death, while the other arm proudly displays a phoenix, alight with colorless fire, stretching down to about halfway down her arm. Across her shoulder blades the text “DEAD END KINGS” is emblazoned, with the four horsemen of the apocalypse riding out across the rest of her back set against an apocalyptic BACKdrop (BAHAHAHAHA). Her forearms have a fair number of scars, none of which appear to be self-inflicted. There’s a teardrop tattoo under her right eye. [b]Attire:[/b] What you’d expect from your average street rat’s ensemble. She has a Black Falls All-Stars ballcap on most of the time, usually turned backwards with her hair in a ponytail. She normally wears a wifebeater or a graphic t-shirt of some sort, with a baggy hoodie over it. Ratty jeans complete the look. [b][u]Personality[/u][/b] [b]Personality:[/b] Lynn takes shit from no one. No one. This is the component of her psyche that explains all the rest. She is fierce, protective, determined, and territorial. What Lynn may lack in raw physical power, privileged upbringing, or education, she makes up for with raw willpower. Her spirit is indomitable-this is a trait that has brought her more suffering than perhaps anything else. Where to begin? Lynn has learned from a hard upbringing of what you can expect from the world: and that is absolutely nothing on a good day. If you don’t get out there and get it for yourself, no one’s getting it for you. Lynn’s cold and pragmatic, with a brutal attitude to reflect the harsh social conditions she faces to survive. There’s no one else. No backup, no cavalry. Lynn handles shit how she sees fit and pays very little respect to any authority. Any intrusions on Lynn’s honor are met with fierce reprisals. The message is very clear-Lynn does not fuck around. Those who have mistaken the small girl for a doormat have paid rather dearly for it. Lynn does not have many problems justifying her actions-she needs that guy’s wallet. She finds it easy to rationalize her actions and, as such, on the rare occasions that Lynn really stops and reflects on herself (something she tries not to do too often), she’s often frightened by what she sees. Lynn is not needlessly cruel. Callous and aloof, yes, but not malicious. Granted, if you fuck her over, she will bury you. However, Lynn doesn’t go out of her way to cause conflict (at least in her eyes she doesn’t-she often escalates problems, but admittedly doesn’t start them very often. Okay that’s a lie. She starts them.) and is willing to help others when she’s given an opportunity to do so without looking soft or causing too much expense to herself. Lynn’s barely making it by, paycheck-to-paycheck. She has no resources to donate to charity and no damned time to spend helping other people. Nobody helped her, why should she return the favor? Lynn’s morality is focused about preservation and loyalty. To those whom she feels loyal, Lynn is respectful and considerate. Lynn’s not one to go along with something just because it’s a rule (Or a law, for that matter). She’s defiant of authority, deeply suspicious, and a quintessential skeptic. Lynn is very rarely fooled, because she very rarely extends her trust to anyone. Borderline paranoid, Lynn’s hypervigilance keeps her a few steps away from a nervous wreck, but it keeps her alive. Lynn’s surrogate family is treated with incredible loyalty-given that she has no one else, she latches on very firmly to those whom she does open up to. She is slow to make bonds but once they are made, she does not cast them aside lightly. Lynn is the sort you may be ashamed to take to a formal dinner, but would want whenever someone started being a dick to you. Her hard exterior masks a hard interior, albeit one with patches of softness. She has a particular emotional weakness for little girls-seeing herself in them, Lynn often tries to be kind to them and try and encourage them away from a life like hers if possible. She’s also lenient towards fathers and mothers for the same reason. Lynn avoids crime that actively harms others if she can. Lynn’s on a dark path, but she’s not an inherently evil person. She’s someone who’s willing to do what’s necessary, whatever that may be. While she did not receive much in the way of education, Lynn is by no means an idiot-she is smart, clever, and cunning. Many have mistaken her less-than-stellar grammar and vocabulary for idiocy. She’s sharp, and with a few more years of schooling, might’ve been able to make something of herself. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Lynn’s code of honor is…flexible, shall we say. She has no qualms with lying, stealing, or backstabbing, but, generally, can be expected to hold true to her word. If she makes a promise, you can trust it. Lynn’s not one to back down from a challenge and has a proud streak. She’s also very cynical and tends to expect-and prepare for-the worst in any given situation. Lynn is the killjoy. She has extreme difficulty apologizing. She often tends to compartmentalize her problems or outright ignore them. Lynn’s belief that she doesn’t have time to address her emotional issues will cost her dearly one day. Just not today. [b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b] Lynn is a skilled artist and not bad at rapping. She prefers activities that bear some practical benefit to her. Drawing helps with her job (tattoo artist). Whittling helps her handle a knife. Running helps her with running. She has also attempted to teach herself some basic school courses but is making slow progress. [b]Skills/Talents:[/b] Lynn is an absolutely brutal street fighter. I’m not dismissing martial arts, but I am stating that Lynn has fucked up some black belts pretty badly. She fights with zero holds barred with anything on hand, with the ferocity of a rabid mother bear deprived of her cubs. On meth. Her deceptive speed and strength, high pain tolerance, and considerable experience make Lynn-despite her size-more than capable of backing up her trash talk. Lynn is also familiar with most criminal activities. She has hotwired cars, pickpocketed, picked locks, robbed and burgled, trespassed, run drugs, you name it. She’s got a familiarity with the police of Black Falls and the criminal element there. If you needed to know what was happening on the streets, Lynn would be your girl. She has several contacts, old friends, and can figure out what’s happening pretty easily. Word travels pretty fast. Lynn is smart. Not like MENSA level or genius, but she’s clever. She will approach her problems with a simple but effective brand of pragmatism: she will do nearly anything to solve her problems. Lynn’s solution are often unexpected but rarely ineffective. She has lots of street smarts and is good at shaking off tails, knowing when she’s being followed, threatening others, and dealing with high-intensity situations. Lynn is not one to lose her cool when shit hits the fan-she reacts quickly and instinctively, and throws together a plan on the fly. Lynn’s also a good tattoo artist. She’s managed to land a job, despite her absolute lack of credentials, with a really sketch tattoo parlor in The Dead End as a result. She performs pretty well, all things considered. Lynn is a fast little fucker as well. While not superhumanly fast, she is quick as all hell. She lacks the physical element (read: lived on the streets) to keep up high-endurance chases, but she is agile. Lynn’s had experience climbing fences, darting in and out of crowds, and scaling walls. [b]Prized Possession:[/b] A small silver locket. Her switchblade. [b]Quote(s):[/b] “No. Fuck yourself.” [b]History/Bio:[/b] Let us merely say a meta child kidnapping ring slipped up and Lynn slipped out, lost from her parents. A stint in an orphanage ended messily. Fell in with a gang. Lost a lot of good, close friends. Lost a lot of herself after that. Then she found a little sister-one who claimed to be a sister by blood. She’s been trying to piece together the rest. [b]Family:[/b] Sister: Olivia “Livvy” Averton [u][b]Relationships[/b][/u] [Livvy] [Excellent] “Eh. Good kid. Good kid. Don’t want her to…well. Let’s hope some things don’t run in the family.” [b][u]Abilities[/u][/b] [b]Power Class & Rating:[/b] Super-System, Elemental (Darkness) Elemental. [b]Power:[/b] Lynn has a guardian angel and he is terrible. Lynn’s shadow is a supernatural being, one that is hell-bent on guarding her. It is always there. It is always watching. It never rests and never falters. The shadow’s strength and versatility in protecting her are considerable-she is able to fight far above her weight class through it. Lynn’s shadow possesses extraordinary reflexes and ultimate strength. It is capable of shifting its form to protect her-a shadowy wall to stop a bullet, a multi-armed abomination to stave off multiple attackers, so on and so forth. Lynn’s shadow is also capable of shielding Lynn mentally and emotionally, however it may not defend her physically and psychically simultaneously. The shadow also subtly infuses her with strength. Lynn is not superhumanly strong, but she is more powerful than a 110 lb girl with a history of malnutrition should be able to be. This results in a minor regenerative factor (mostly occupied with staving off any number of health complications Lynn should have from her poor diet and malnutrition) and a boost to her endurance and constitution, enough to function. Lynn’s shadow is sentient and capable of communicating with her if necessary. It can, occasionally, help Lynn with minor matters, but it generally stays dormant unless Lynn is in severe danger. Lynn’s power offers her an affinity to the dark, and as such she can see more clearly at night than most. Lynn's shadow cannot be manipulated by another shadow manipulators, as Lynn could be killed pretty much instantly that way. [b]Weaknesses/Drawbacks:[/b] Lynn’s shadow can only act if Lynn is in extreme danger. Lynn has thus far managed to remain unlisted by NEST, so any blatant displays of her power will get her ass in some serious trouble. Additionally, her shadow can only function to the range her shadow normally could-so there’s a five or six foot limit to its effective range. Very defensively focused. Finally, the righteous or those acting with pure motives are less affected by Lynn’s abilities. Lynn’s shadow is also in charge of defending her psyche: Lynn remains more or less sane as a result of her gifts, which staves off the more traumatic experiences she’s endured and represses things it deems a threat to her sanity/life. As the shadow is forced to defend her physically, it will divert less attention to her mind, and Lynn will rapidly begin to breakdown until it’s able to fix things. [b][u]Other:[/u][/b] Lynn is bisexual *nudge nudge Alex nudge nudge* Lynn also keeps a backpack near her at all times. This backpack is full of emergency supplies. She’s lived out of it for a while when necessary. Inside (if not on her person) is a trusty switchblade, a spare change of clothes, a water bottle, a liquor bottle, some handkerchiefs, a pack of smokes, a flashlight, some bolt cutters, and some cash. Lynn does not have a full education and, while she is intelligent, may not know much in the way of book-smarts. She has some trouble reading at times. [b][u]Sample Post:[/u][/b] “You fucked up my tattoo.” Lynn kept her back turned. Ass pressed against the counter. Where was he? Sounded a couple feet back. Footsteps. Closer. Close enough to punch. Or stab-he was the rowdy sort. Tall. Thick. Lynn’s eyes, unbeknownst to the unhappy camper behind her, flickered around the parlor. Her bag was a good four or five feet away. Not reached quickly. Switchblade? In her pocket. Eh. Didn’t want to do this the messy way. “Did you hear me? I said you fucked up my tattoo. You misspelled-“ “I’m going to fuck up your ability to walk if you don’t leave right now,” Lynn muttered, continuing to shuffle through the bills. She felt a tension between hers, the little spine-tickle of imminent conflict. Lynn didn’t shudder or so much as flinch. She merely kept on counting the bills. Fifty six. Fifty seven. Click. Ah. That was causing the tingling. “What the hell did you just say? I’m going to have this for the rest of my-“ Dead End’s best tattoo parlor was kind of like being the best murderer in Cook County Jail. It was cool, but it would be a lot cooler if you weren’t surrounded by other murderers. No, wait, that metaphor doesn’t work. Does it? Well, if it doesn’t work, it’s okay, because neither does ninety percent of Dead End’s population. Lynn closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She could, quite honestly, be detailed as not having any fear. She had stopped bullets before. Well, she hadn’t. But someone else had. She glanced down at her shadow-or, more accurately, where her shadow should be. The overhead light, the grimy half-burnt-out fluorescent star, should’ve cast her shadow in front of her. Over the dollar bills she was counting. Over her rough, no-makeup face with the teardrop tattoo. “Yeah. That sucks. You want your money back?” Lynn turned around, her face blank and empty. The man noticeably shifted a bit-not many people react with nonchalance to the unhappy end of a 9 millimeter. “No! I…yes! Do you understand what you’ve done? I-“ “Put the gun down. Get out. No refunds.” He went to click the hammer back again for dramatic effect-but he already had. Lynn smirked. Damned amateur. Too many movies. Lynn didn’t watch many movies. Movies were usually dumb. Too long and hard to follow and shit. “That’s how you’re going to-“ “I don’t like guns being focused on me. And you are sure as hell not going to like me being focused on you. So leave. Last chance.” There are a lot of people who don’t understand violence. They question why people go to war, why people are driven to murder and rape and kill. These people, in a word, are weak. This is not to say any of those things are particularly justified or ethically in the right. But if you hand a man a knife in a sheath sooner or later he’ll take it out to see what it looks like. And sooner or later he’ll run the blade gently along his hand to see what it feels like. And sooner or later he’ll find a reason to take it out and tear apart a zip tie or a cardboard box or some minor inconvenience, he’ll find some reason to utterly annihilate something. And sooner or later, he might just do the same to a person. The gun was trembling in the mistattooed man’s hands. Lynn blinked. She threw the money and he pulled the trigger. Lynn flinched, reflexively-one of the few reflexes she hadn’t been able to hammer out, despite her best efforts to bury those damning expressions of fear and weakness. Bills fluttered. Gunpowder smoke. A hand of pure darkness was holding the bullet. Then another slapped the gun out of the man’s hands, knocking it clear across the parlor. It the wall and split in half. Lynn slowly slid over the bar and walked over to the man, who perhaps wisely took a few steps back, pale eyes wide and face a few shades lighter than normal. “Wh-you’re-you’re one-“ Lynn brought her knee up into his groin and, perhaps a second later, brought her fists into the man’s kidneys. Groaning, he sunk down, one hand fumbling for a knife or a phone or it didn’t matter. Lynn brought her knee up again into his nose, an unnatural crunch coming from his something or another, Lynn didn’t know shit about anatomy. Clutching at his nose Lynn cupped her fists together and swung it, hammer style, against his left ear. He fell over. Lynn’s hand snaked down slowly to her pants pocket and pulled out a switchblade, which she flipped out with instinctual ease. “Look at me.” A half muffled sob. A bloody nasal groan. “I did not ask. Look. At. Me.” Lynn kicked him in the gut and the man’s eyes looked up. “I’m not one of them. Am I?” The man whimpered but refused to give an answer. Ugh. Lynn knelt down, moving with the leisurely ease of someone tending to flowers in the garden. She placed the tip of the knife against the man’s crotch, pressing down slowly but with increasing force. “Look at me. Am I one of them?” “No! No! You’re not! You’re not I swear you’re-“ “Listen. I have your name and I know what you look like. If anyone comes by asking anything about me do you know what I will do?” The man shook his head, a two-parts blood, one-part mucus, one-part tears solution running down his blotchy face. “I will go to prison. Probably for a very long time. But first. I will find you.” Lynn turned the blade out and punched the man square in the groin. “Now get the fuck out of here. If I ever see you-and I mean if I ever see you-passing in the street, getting food at Burger King, I will kill you. In broad daylight. In front of your pissant kids, your cocksucking mother. I will put you on speaking terms with God with this knife.” Lynn stood up and kicked him one final time, feeling the cathartic bloodrush of violence. It suppressed the legitimate fear he’d go running off to NEST. That fear takes its toll. Coupled with Lynn’s less than stellar childhood, it tended to leave her prone to the occasional outburst. “Now get out before you piss yourself and leave me with a mess to clean up. And be sure to tell your friends about us. Word of mouth is important.” The man, after a moment or two, gathered himself up into a hunched over walk that resembled a mobile fetal position. He staggered out, ideally never to be seen again. When he was a good ways out Lynn went and turned over the “OPEN” sign. Then she went into the back room and punched the wall until her knuckles split open. Then she just sat in the dark for a couple minutes shaking like a motherfucker. Then she washed her hands off and bandaged up her hand and went back out and turned the sign around and sat back down behind the parlor to keep earning minimum wage for the rest of the day. [/hider]