Imogen Reed

The Hanged Man

July 29th

Quietly composed, with a tasteful and cultivated smidgen of elegance. Her expression, while seldom happy or cheerful, suggests mere seriousness rather than haughtiness or ill temper. In fact, her big bright eyes make her solemn manner cute in the eyes of some. The combination of dressing for comfort in what are clearly still expensive clothes says enough about her in and of itself. Even in her student uniform, the presence of her signature beanie and scarf (as well as her headphones) give her that same dignified yet casual air. At 5’4” and on the slender side, she doesn’t stand out much otherwise

For the most part, people don’t think about Imogen. She is merely an element in the background, like a lampshade or doormat, nice enough but quite forgettable. People don't know much about her background, or care to know, and she doesn't care to inform them. That said, everyone does know she's Irish, and the bad blood between the Irish and English goes back a long way, subtly tinging her interactions. While not shy, she’s soft-spoken and taciturn enough to seldom get much attention, and though she’s happy enough to exchange pleasantries she has no problem with silence, either. The headphones she often wears give the impression that she doesn't want to be disturbed, although this isn't strictly true; instead of desiring silence she is dealing with the silence that is assumed. She never gets into trouble, always minds her own business, and dutifully does her part in group projects but rarely attends social events. The end result is someone that to most other students is little more than a warm body, an unassuming inoffensive occupant of space, and whether she’s there or not makes not a whit of difference.

Obedient, independent, self-sufficient, mature for her age–if these were not traits Imogen were born with, they were ones that her upbringing made more than second nature to her. The two happiest days in her father Cedric’s life were the day that he married Millicent Lancaster following an extended trip up from England to Ireland, and the day that their only daughter was born. Her dad knew that the woman he’d somehow married was too good for him, and so did she, but they were in love. He showed her how to love again; she shone a ray of radiant light into the murky hae of his life. It was like a storybook tale come true. Whether she came from a rich family or not, he -a poor, blue-collar Irish laborer- would do his damnedest to provide for his precious family.

Millie allowed him to. While he worked long hours to make ends meet, she idled her time away wherever she pleased, leaving young Imogen at home. She came from the fast life, after all; the simple pleasures after a hard day’s work that Cedric cherished, and that Imogen yearned for, would never satisfy her. Her needs for diversion, attention, and appreciation had to be met, and slowly, her husband ceased to satisfy. That wonderful spark of passion that galvanized them into a quick marriage was gone. With the passing interest known as a family now little more than a nuisance, it was no wonder that Millie ended up cheating on Cedric. What good was he for her, after all? Though stunned and hurt, Cedric forgave her, only to later learn that the affairs continued. When the infidelity finally reached the breaking point, he attempted to confront her, threatening to take his beloved daughter and leave. Instead Millie divorced him, crushed him in the legal proceedings, and took with her back to England the one thing he had to his name.

In England Imogen’s lonely life continued, all the lonelier for the absence of the only one who really cared about her. Millie provided for her, sending her to fine schools to try her hardest and succeed, but any show of tenderness inevitably rang hollow. Naturally awkward Imogen made few friends, spending most of her time either on schoolwork or online. She didn’t know how to talk with people her age or get them to like her, and felt like an outcast. For a while she did everything she could to try and make people give her the pity, sympathy, and kindness she believed she deserved. At the same time, she felt the urge to lash out, to bitterly dismiss and rebuke those who did as insincere, inadequate, or misguided. They should pity her, but she didn’t need their pity. Somehow, self-loathing and self-absorption walked hand in hand. As a result, those around her saw her as a selfish, manipulative drama queen, a weirdo, and a freak.

In the years of misery that followed, Imogen eventually had to change her tune. Starting after middle school, she calmed down. She buried her anger and the despair that caused it beneath a polite, considerate dignity. Imogen succeeded in completely changing her image, from her behavior to her appearance, seemingly becoming an upstanding young lady with an excellent academic record, a totally different and much more tolerable person. Though never popular or anything, she behaved long enough that all memories of that crazy, maladjusted problem child disappeared. All except Imogen’s, of course, To most, she just grew up, but in reality she worries that she never did, and had merely given up instead. She more or less accepted that it’s her lot in life to be a ‘ghost’ that matters to nothing and nobody, meaning that instead of others’ love and appreciation, she gets her new sense of self-worth from spite–the wholehearted commitment to spitting in life’s face by living a good one despite all its cruelty. She's still bitter about her loneliness and apathy, but she hides it and is too exhausted all the time from her studies to act out. It sometimes feels like something’s crawling inside her, a mania just waiting to break free.

Odradek - something adrift and unanchored, obscure and aimless that is neither quite dead nor alive, neither object nor human, and bereft of either origin or purpose. It appears to be a simple piece of junk, being a quantity of scrap twine or rope wound around two metal spikes in the manner of a kite or perhaps the sail of a ship, with an eye nestled inside the knot at the very center. It tends to float above and just behind the user, its loose threads flapping gently in some ethereal wind. If held its flight is strong enough to glide with, but not to ascend. When it manifests, it does so like it’s rapidly knitting itself together

Odradek specializes in screwing with, breaking down, and picking apart enemies. With its baleful, disquieting gaze that brings all into question it can weaken foes’ presence of mind (attack and accuracy debuffs), or it can take initiative to restrain them with its thread, making them sitting ducks (speed and defense debuffs). While it possesses only mediocre physical attacks of its own with its metal crossbars, its strange threads allows it to turn enemy attacks against them (counters) or with a little luck and preparation, puppet them directly (brainwash). Its element is Nuclear, the wellspring of enigmatic, almost eldritch radiation that is anathema to living things

Imogen's weapon is an unusually volatile and violent one: a grenade on a string, or more specifically, a garrote. Whether a piano or guitar string, the garrote is tough and sharp, ideal for stealth takedowns. When time to go loud, however, it can be used to pull the pin on Imogen's grenade from a distance, setting off its very, very short fuse. The grenades inherit Odradek's element, acting like teensy-tiny nuclear explosion