Name: Michelle Darrens Gender: Female Age: 18 Lineage: Caucasian Zoanthrope - Wolf(?) Fate: 2 Relationship Status: Single Occupational Status: Employed as Remote Data Entry Professional for Markone Staffing. Previous Occupation: Waitress Physical Description: Michelle could have been, and in some ways still is, quite pretty. If things had gone differently she might even have been unusually so, but these days it's hard to tell. Standing just shy of 5'9'' and weighing in at around one hundred and thirty five pounds, she's a lean little whip of a girl on the cusp of being a young woman and would have done well for herself if things hadn't gone to hell. A year and a half ago she was all lips, hips and athletic physique, shooting for a varsity track, but that year and a half has been a doozie. These days she's the kind of girl you'd have a hard time sitting across the bus from and not staring at. Her dirty blond hair, long enough to hang down to the middle of her back, is shaved on one side in the style of the time, the visible ear lined with rings from top to bottom. Her lips--her favorite feature, if she was ever being honest about it--now sport a dandy trio of thin scars along the left hand side and she has a truly heinous ink-pen tattoo across her throat that nearly cost her voice a while back. Her eye are sleepless and dark, bloodshot, and have an unfortunate tendency to catch light like an animal's might. She is almost always seen wearing a massive black hoodie, second hand and touting some slightly indie hard rock band, unceremoniously over a pair of black tights. On very rare occasions, when she wants to feel pretty, she changes it up and wears a black sun dress instead. Never around other people, though--her wrists are a mess. Kids these days. Alternate Physical Description: There are monsters, and then there are real monsters. The kind you don't forget seeing, the ones that make you remember what it's like to be prey and wake you up at night, and when Michelle wolfs out she's very much the latter. At just shy of nine foot tall anthropomorphic terror, she's the big bad Wolf every Red Riding Hood wishes they could be when they grow up. Her normally wiry figure explodes into dense mammalian muscle, knotting and curling over a lupine frame equally at home lunging on four legs or stalking on two. Bristling with wiry grey fur, it's when you get to the business end of things that she really gets wicked. Michelle's got a wicked tongue at the best of times these days, but it doesn't hold a candle to her teeth. When she lets loose and the wolf takes over her fangs are as long as fingers, strong and interlocked to rip and tear. Her eyes are blood drunk gold saucers blotted with a swollen black pupil, shark-dark, and her fucked up finger-paws tear up ground and flesh with inches-long claws. All werewolves are scary, but most of them have nothing on Michelle. Psychological Profile: Michelle would very much like to be a normal, pretty girl. She would like very much to finish highschool, pay lip service to her parents and sneak out to parties with her friends and somehow manage passing grades. Theoretically she'd have liked a boyfriend, though not quite so much these days, and to sit around and smoke pot and do stupid teenager things. She would also very much like to not be a horrible psychotic cannibal-monster, but is pretty sure that what she would very much like means jack shit these days. Michelle is not a happy camper. She remembers the [i]before[/i] and can't really imagine living with the [i]after[/i], so she doesn't. Imagine it, that is--she's tried suicide and it doesn't work out well for anyone. It hurts to think about things like why she feels so angry all the time, or why she putt-putts her way through her life, or what the point of any of this is, so she doesn't. She lives by doing, not by thinking--it's easy to be fearless when you don't care, and it's easy not to care when any semblance of a real life you might have had went down the toilet along with the bits of your step-dad's zyphoid process you couldn't keep down. Much as she tries to bottle it, ignore it or kill it, however, there is always that lingering, smoldering, boiling hate just ready to bubble back up. For herself, for the world, for anything and everything. So don't make her angry. You wouldn't [i]like[/i] her when she's angry. Alternate Psychological Profile: At the best of times, Michelle is a tad mopey. Sometimes kind of cheerful, in a sad-puppy kind of way, but she's really just kidding you. Because when push comes to shove, when things get to be too much, she's not mopey. She's not sad. She's absolutely fucking furious. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve [i]any[/i] of this. She never wanted to cause trouble, make enemies, hurt anyone. She never asked to be a giant monster, but goddamn now that she is does it feel good to be one. When she transforms, it's all that impotent rage that a skinny little high school dropout buries under pussy emo bullshit can muster turned up to eleven and given claws the size of steak knives. The funny thing is that wolfing out is the only time she feels like she's [i]in[/i] control. The bomb already went off, the worst case scenario already happened--she doesn't have to pretend to be something she's not anymore. She can admit that she's a savage fucking animal and go. To. [i]Town[/i]. And that [i]terrifies[/i] her. Vices: Michelle smokes cigarettes, marijuana and does heroin when she can get her hands on it. Background: Michelle's mother was a gold digger, plain and simple. She was pretty enough and smart enough to realize that the easiest path to a good life was to find someone going somewhere and get pregnant, which is exactly what she did. Nine months later out comes Michelle, as cute and squalling a baby as ever one did see and her mother promptly traded in the full time job of being pregnant for the full time job of looking for a better meal ticket. Michelle was on step-father three by the time she was going into high-school and liked to think she was relatively well adjusted for it. Yes, it left her with the odd sensation that men were both gullible and disposable, but there was also a sort of benign indifference to the men her mother snagged. They were always polite enough to her, relatively mild mannered and pretty benign. Her newest step father was the best yet, and even something resembling pleasant to her. He didn't mind when she snuck out late, made enough money accounting for some significant corporation or another to keep her and her mother well off in their respective social groups and wasn't bad to stay up late and watch shitty television with. And then she went to the wrong party and everything went to hell. Date rape happens. Its worse when it happens to you. Its worse still when it sends you to the ER. Its worse still when, even when all the tests come back clean and everyone is whispering how it's going to be alright, you [i]know[/i] something is wrong. So if Michelle was angry and hurt and upset, she thought that was a pretty reasonable reaction. What was [i]not[/i] a reasonable reaction was walking in on her step-father a few nights later watching some particularly inappropriate material of questionable moral character. Nothing illegal, just the usual male power trip bullshit, but having just been power tripped herself and not feeling very accommodating, well... It was all a blur from there. A messy, red, tear-stained blur that ended on the other side of the city spewing into a dumpster. Everything after that--the police, her mother, trying to go back to school and failing...miserably... Well. What's a girl to do. Recent History: Michelle fell in with a bad crowd. A very bad crowd, the kind that knew what she was and liked it and liked that she was too new to the scene to really resist. Wolves run in packs, and being low girl on the totem pole was [i]not[/i] a party, but by the time she started getting the picture so were they. There are monsters and then there are [i]monsters[/i], and when she cut loose she was far and away the second of those. It wasn't long before ties were cut and she was alone again but, in her eyes, that was the best thing that could have happened to her. She wasn't fit for public consumption and she knew it, so she took herself out of it. It was hard. She was cities away from anyone she ever knew, left crashing on the couch of people who were half terrified of her, half stoned assholes, but it only takes one good friend to get up and running. His sister worked at a staffing company and got Michelle the kind of job she could do on her friend's laptop until she got on her feet. Determined to regain some semblance of a life if only so she could withdraw from the lives of others, she managed to do decently in spite of herself. She saved up enough money to get herself a shitty laptop and a shitty apartment on the shitty side of town and, well... There she was.